


The Problem with Peace

by MercuryBlade



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Arranged Marriage, AruAni, Canon Compliant, Enemies to Lovers, Eren is in paths, F/F, F/M, Gen, If Peace was easy we'd try it more often, M/M, Marley (Shingeki no Kyojin), May not stay Canon Compliant, Mentions of Rape, Multi, PTSD, Political Alliances, Post-Rumbling, Refugees, Reikuri, Slow Burn, This will be one hell of a convoluted ship, War Trauma, yumikuri
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:21:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 150,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27606202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercuryBlade/pseuds/MercuryBlade
Summary: The Alliance attempts to bring together the remaining Marleyan survivors and Paradisian political exiles from the Yeagerist purges by arranging a marriage between the last remaining Paradis Royal and the Marleyan War Chief. Everything goes wrong. There are no happy endings because nothing ends.The story focuses strongly on the socio-political implications of the relationship between Reiner and Historia. This relationship itself is difficult as it involves two people who have seriously harmed each other and should rightly hate each other and sorta do. But that's also what makes it beautiful in the end because they manage to claw through a no-man's land of guilt, shame, pain and political baggage to find a kind of peace with each other.Inspired in part by Spandau Ballet - Through the BarricadesFeatured comment:Phenomenal. Fantastic. This is absolute perfection. You have no idea what joy reading this brings me. You’re such a great writer and you paint the AOT universe in a delicious, decadently crafted way that I would have never thought of. Keep up the amazing work! I can’t wait for more of these installments.-OliveGardenBreadsticksPlease leave a comment! I love those!
Relationships: Armin Arlert/Annie Leonhart, Gabi Braun/Falco Grice, Hitch Dreyse/Jean Kirstein, Hitch Dreyse/Original Male Character, Karina Braun/Mister Leonhart, Levi & Pieck (Shingeki no Kyojin), Mikasa Ackerman/Eren Yeager, Mikasa Ackerman/Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss, Mikasa Ackerman/Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss/Reiner Braun, Mikasa Ackerman/Original Male Character, Mikasa Ackerman/Reiner Braun, Reiner Braun/Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss
Comments: 335
Kudos: 234
Collections: The Problem With Peace





	1. Marriage

“Krista?” Reiner stared at the tiny blonde girl, dumbfounded. “How?”

“My real name is Historia Reiss.” She stared at the floor, wringing her hands. “I was the illegitimate daughter of the King. I thought Armin would have told you—“

Reiner swallowed, running his fingers through his hair. “That’s what Armin was trying to telegraph to me.” Armin’s last telegraphed message: Just one word before the Survey’s advance telegraph station on the mainland had gone dark, presumably from one of its near continual generator failures— **K. R. I. S. T. A.**

Krista—Historia went silent. After a moment she took a hesitant step forward, reaching for his hand. “I’m sorry...”

The moment her fingers brushed the back of his hand, he flinched away from her like she’d burnt him. S _he got pregnant so Eren could release the Rumbling._ His ears filled with sound like static and then in and out of the static a sound faded. Screaming. Tens of thousands of people screaming at once. A wave of revulsion hit him so hard he thought he was dying, then the trailing edge washed over him and he realized he was going to be sick. Right now.

As she watched his reaction with horror, he backed away from her toward where he remembered the door was, hitting a chest of drawers, managing to half fall against the wall behind it and grope for the door knob.

He heard one choking sob from her before he slammed the door closed. He made it to some sort of painted porcelain vase from Hizuru on a side table before he started to vomit. He heaved until his sides ached and he tasted bile. In the shaky aftermath he wiped his face and—because he couldn’t stand the feel of it against his skin—he took the wedding ring off.

—Rumbling—

They flew along the edge of the coast to avoid most of the dangerous thermals spun up by the advancing Collossals. From a distance the Rumbling ate into Marley like fire into a coal. It was grotesquely beautiful; Reiner couldn’t stop watching it.

Then they turned towards the continental mass of Marley and the horror began.

Flotch had shot out parts of the hull and one window so Onyakopon couldn’t gain much altitude. Rivers of blood streaked the raped land; fire sprouted up in geysers from broken oil derricks and power generation plants. Acrid greasy smoke from the burning oil oozed like sin into the belly of the plane, choking them all. Under that lurked the sweet-sick stink of blood and fresh gore mixed with raw sewage. Wave after wave of a stench that triggered their worst memories.

Jean started puking first. Pieck had handed them all air-sick bags from the supplies closet at the start of the flight and he managed to keep it contained. When he was done, he walked in a daze to the back of the plane and curled into a ball, weeping.

After a few minutes of all of them listening to Jean in complete silence, Pieck got up and moved towards him with a canteen. She was the closest thing to a medic they had now and having something to do seemed to centre her.

Reiner glanced over the others. Mikasa was swallowed up by that Ackerman stoicism, her face empty as a doll’s. Levi didn’t respond at all. The weight of his mourning seemed to erase the world from consideration.

Reiner’s eyes flicked to Connie. The shorter man’s gaze was grim, but he seemed composed. Armin came back from the cockpit and glanced over the plane’s interior. He looked focused, like Connie. With obvious effort Armin met Reiner’s gaze, the only one of the 104 Scouts who had since they’d started flying over the devastation. Reiner saw a flash of despair and shame in Armin’s blue eyes, like an open pit inside him, mirroring the horror outside. Then the focus returned. “Onyakopon says we have a half hour left—“

Wet slop started to hit the plane, the sound interrupting Armin’s announcement. Startled, Reiner looked out the nearest port window.

It was raining blood.

A water spout stirred up by the tremendous heat of the Titans hitting cold air was sucking gore into the air and flinging it.

Bits of blood, bone, shit and flesh flicked into the belly of the plane from the breeches in the hull. Some of it splattered on Connie.

Connie’s composure broke. He gagged, spitting, “I got it in my mouth!” He started to wail like a wounded animal, a shrill, hysterical keen that rattled Reiner’s bones.

Instantly the energy changed. Every one of them but Levi was staring at Connie, an animal panic rising in their eyes.

Even Armin was breathing hard like he was about to lose it.

Reiner grabbed Connie and put his hand over the smaller man’s mouth. Connie struggled hard enough to escape his hand and Reiner had to shift his grip to a rear naked choke, tightening it enough to stop Connie from screeching. “Connie. Stop.” He hissed into Connie’s ear. “You can cry but you can’t scream like that.”

Reiner released his choke slowly. Connie didn’t keep screaming, instead he sobbed and coughed up sick. Pieck pushed the canteen into Reiner’s hand and Reiner helped Connie wash his mouth out. Connie gulped the water and spit it out on the floor over and over, weeping and muttering, “I swallowed it. I swallowed it.”

Armin regained himself. “I’ll check Onyakopon.” He returned to the cockpit.

When Connie'd stilled a bit Reiner pressed him back to the bench seat, rubbing his shoulders until he was able to wipe his face clean and nod, “I’m okay.”

Reiner slapped his back. He stopped at Mikasa, crouching a little to catch her eyes. She looked at him but said nothing. He didn’t know if she’d appreciate being touched by him so he nodded once. She nodded back.

He turned to Levi. The Captain was still inert, almost lifeless. Reiner leaned closer.

Levi noticed the motion and glanced at him. “This is what my comrades died to protect?” Levi shook his head. “Don’t look at me like that. Nothing’s changed for me.”

“Okay.” Reiner left him to walk to the back of the plane with Jean and Pieck.

Pieck glanced up at his approach.

Reiner crouched beside her. Jean was still curled into a ball, his hands gripping the back of his neck. “Jean?”

Jean glanced at him, the same pit of despair in his eyes as Armin’s. “I helped him make this.”

“You didn’t know.” Reiner said.

“I should have known. You knew.” Jean closed his eyes. “I’ll do whatever it takes to stop it.”

Reiner heard what sounded like distant artillery fire as turbulence rocked the plane, sending them all airborne for a second. Reiner grabbed for the support rail bolted to the hull and caught Pieck to steady her. “We’re going over the front line of Colossals.” He said to her questioning look. “The heat creates pockets of different air density.”

“What’s that sound? Sounds like a cliff full of birds…” Pieck trailed off; her face went pale.

As the sound increased in volume Reiner could see the moment she recognized… like hot lead hitting her gut. “It’s screaming.” She said. “They’re screaming.”

Reiner nodded. He stood, keeping his feet despite the bucking plane. The sound was so loud now it felt like a physical thing, like he was being choked and squeezed by it.

Pieck’s face crumpled into tearless horror.

In his peripheral vision he caught sight of the roiling mass made of terrified humans fleeing the approaching Collossals through one of the port windows. Reiner turned away and tried to move to the most private part of the plane; there was none. He ended up looking at the blank grey metal of the fuselage. He took a steadying breath. And then slammed his fist into the metal hard to break his knuckles. Over and over like a sledgehammer; until he broke every bone in his hands, until the steel dented.

Until Armin grabbed his shoulders and shoved him back with a Titan shifter’s strength. “Stop!” Armin got his shoulder into Reiner’s chest as the larger man tried to muscle past him. “Save your strength.” Armin grabbed his neck, pulling him closer until their foreheads touched. “You’ve held up better than all of us. We need you.”

Reiner closed his eyes, shaking. His fury had revealed the edge of his pain. The agony in his arms spidered itself through his entire body, turning hot in his stomach. He coughed and swallowed. “It’s no man’s land.” He opened his eyes and stared at Armin.

Armin flinched away from his gaze but didn’t let go of Reiner’s neck. “No man’s land?”

“No man’s land. Between the trenches.”

“Is that… what it’s like in the trenches?”

“Yeah.” Reiner nodded. “The trenches were the cost paid for Marley. And the trenches grew wider, as wide as the country, and swallowed it whole.” He laughed. “I guess we all pay the cost in the end.”

“Holy fuck don’t laugh like that.” Armin searched his eyes. “You’re sounding as crazy as Eren. You lived through this for four years?”

Reiner shrugged helplessly. “This much screaming is new.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

He lifted his hands. They were already healed, steaming coming off his knuckles. “I’m fine.”

Armin nodded and let him go.

When Reiner turned around, he saw everyone staring at him. They looked like beaten dogs: miserable, ashamed, begging. All, except for Levi. He continued to stare through the bottom of the plane at something no one could see.

“There was a cockroach.” Reiner explained. “Crawling on the wall.”

They stared at him in disbelief. Connie managed a high pitched giggle.

“This is just another thing we need to fight through.” Reiner said, straightening. Each one of them reflected his own resolve back at him, the defeated expressions easing. He returned to his spot by the bench, watching hell unfold below them through the window port, his mind detached and focused—scanning for threats, calculating distances, trying to spot landmarks—as the unending scream resonated through him, carving more of his heart away.

He knew they were watching him so he had to show them it could be endured.

—3 Years post Rumbling—

When Reiner entered the Loyalist Military HQ’s largest session room, he felt every gaze fall on him. The five men appraised him in a way that made him feel like livestock at an auction mart. He grit his teeth in annoyance behind an impassive mask. _What now?_

“Sirs.” Reiner said, formally. “You sent for me?”

The assembled men were what remained of the top brass of the Marleyan army and Eldian Loyalists, supporters of Historia, the rightful queen of the walls. She was a mystery to Reiner: Never seen outside of her ranch house, which Reiner had also never visited. As far as he knew if she made any decisions about the alliance they were conveyed through Armin. Her major contribution to the current situation was getting pregnant so Eren and Zeke could meet and Eren could unleash the Rumbling.

Reiner had been told she regretted it. He wasn’t one to judge, so he didn’t dwell on it.

At the far side of the broad oak table was Engineer Commandant Capozzi, a large, boisterous Northern Marleyan. The man was not easy to work with—he was arrogant, hard-headed and intolerant. Intolerant not because he hated Eldians, but because he hated anyone who wasn’t an Army Engineer, or rather he regarded them as profoundly stupid. However he and his men worked harder and faster than any army engineers Reiner had ever seen. He was also a brutally honest man and devoted to the survival of the Marleyan refugees.

Next to Capozzi was the Air Force Lieutenant Colonel—Muller, a Southern Marleyan—sat at the head. He had commanded humanity’s last stand at Fort Salta and made a speech about reconciliation and taking responsibility for the cycle of violence and hatred. Reiner wasn’t sure he trusted him because his motives could be opaque at times, but Muller was likeable enough and Reiner preferred working with the Air Force; they tended to have a broad view, were less inflexible and chauvinistic, actually listening to what he had to say. And that was before Magrath purged the Marleyan Military’s hierarchy of its deadweight. The fact that these men had survived that purge spoke to their competence and character: the only reason Reiner had considered working with them at all.

Then there was Command Sargent Major Parval, who had been in effective command of the Warrior Brigade stationed at Fort Salta. Parval was a quiet, stolid Eldian. There wasn’t a moment that Reiner didn’t thank Jovus that Magrath had the foresight to send Parval to Fort Salta, as extra protection and possible fail-safe.

Parval had been loyal to Magrath, and now he was loyal to Reiner as Magrath’s replacement. Parvel commanded a brigade of infantry soldiers. Meaning his loyalty put Reiner on top of the largest pile of teeth in the room, possibly even the island since the Yeagerists had fractured into a three way civil war over succession.

That pile of teeth made Reiner the de facto head of the Marleyan half of the Alliance’s military. His status as one half of the Duumviri in charge of the Alliance made it official. Armin was the second half.

On the Eldian side were the Loyalists, the soldiers and ranking officials that remained faithful to Historia Reiss and the crown, split between Hofferson who commanded the Loyalist Garrison and managed to keep several supply lines open to keep them fed through personal connections; and what remained of the Loyalist MPs, lead by Hitch who was their contact with a network of spies in the capital, keeping eyes on the Yeagerists movements.

And finally Jean, the current Commander of the Survey Corps.

Hitch and Jean were not in the room. Jean was with Armin doing a supply run on a Hizuru steamer, Hitch was meeting with a covert operative somewhere in the interior. But Hofferson and his aide were there to represent the Loyalists.

Collectively they were the six factions of the Alliance: Marleyan Army Engineers and Air Force, Marleyan Eldian Warriors, the Loyalist Garison and Military Police and the Scouts, all working to ensure the future survival of the handful of Marleyans and other nationals that had escaped the Rumbling, and the Paradisian Loyalists that had escaped the Yeagerists. They’d set up a settlement in one of the abandoned towns closest to the Paradis port.

“Let’s cut to the chase.” Capozzi said. He jerked his head at Hofferson. “He’s proposing a political marriage.”

Reiner sat down at the other side of the table, opposite Muller. “Oh? Between whom?”

Capozzi leaned on the table, leering. “You and the Queen.”

Reiner nodded. “I see.” He leaned on his elbows on the table, resting his chin on his hands. “Why?”

Muller gestured effusively. “It’s a beautiful story. Love blossoming in the midst of a waste—“

"Very poetic." Reiner nodded, annoyed. “Also a complete lie. Again, why?”

“The Garrison says they want to cement the alliance. Make it more official.” Capozzi leaned back in his chair, eyeing Hofferson. “They’re going to use her to get leverage over the Warriors.” He jerked his head at Reiner. “Through his cock.”

Muller frowned at Capozzi, “You’re so crude.”

Hofferson and his aide glared at Engineer Commandant. Parval rolled his eyes.

“Oh come on. We’re all thinking it on this side of the table.” Capozzi snapped.

“I’ll do it.” Reiner said.

Capozzi gaped at him. “Did you hear what I—“

“Yes. I did. If you don’t want to me to do it, then you’ve just made the case that it’s a meaningful gesture of goodwill.” Reiner turned to look at him. “We came here to _their_ land, we eat because _they_ feed us, we live because _they_ saved us. You think only of the Marleyan refugee’s best interests. And that’s exactly why I consider what you have to say. But you need to consider those best interests now include the Loyalists and their wishes.”

Capozzi sneered. “You’re too soft.”

“Watch your tongue!” Parvel levelled a glare at the Engineering Commandant. “Braun is braver than you or any other Marleyan at this table.”

“Being uncompromising got us here.” Muller offered quietly. “Are we going to continue to make the same mistakes?”

Capozzi heaved a sigh and threw his arms wide. “Fine. We roll over and give them our bellies to spear.”

Reiner turned to Hofferson. “Do you honestly think this will give you leverage over the Warriors?”

Hofferson took a breath, then went silent.

“Be honest.” Reiner said. “There’s no shame in wanting security.”

“I think it will make you reconsider before deploying them against us, yes.” He admitted.

Reiner shrugged. “You never needed to worry about that. But if this gives you piece of mind, I’ll do it. What’s her opinion?”

“She proposed it.” Hofferson said.

“I’ll have to run it by Armin— I mean my Duovir before I give my final consent. Do you think this will be well received by the Paradisian refugees?”

“They are still very devoted to the Queen. We can spin a inspirational story around it. As Muller was suggesting.”

“Then it’s settled, unless Armin disagrees.” Reiner sighed. “How old is she?”

“She’s 22.” Hofferson supplied.

"Alright." Great. Expectations. He stood. “Then I’m sure she’ll love being married to a middle aged man.”

Parval stared at him. “You’re 24, sir.”

Reiner looked at him, perplexed. “Oh right.” Sometimes he felt like he was ancient; he had too many years of other people’s lives rattling around in his head.

Capozzi eyed Reiner, “She should have no complaints. He takes after his Marleyan half.”

That got a grin out of Muller. Both men got up, Capozzi slapping Reiner on the back, hard enough to make him stagger forward, and Muller grabbing his head and kissing him loudly on the temple.

Being included in their smug envelope of Marleyan machismo astounded Reiner. Where they would have once rejected him because of his Eldian half, or his mixed heritage, now circumstances being what they were… they saw themselves in him instead. Losing almost everything of Marley had apparently made every shred left precious to them.

—

“You’re late.” Reiner said, taking a final puff on his cigarette before blunting it out in his ash tray. He sat on the back porch of the Queen's ranch house with a bottle of rum trying to settle his nerves. "Wedding's over."

Armin breathed out hard and dropped down beside him on the step. “You could have waited. And there was bad weather coming back.” Armin’s lips quirked into a wry grin. “Looks like it went well.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because you’re drinking. And smoking.”

Reiner glanced at the glass in his hand. “At least now I can get drunk without spending a fortune.” He picked up the other glass on the silver tray and poured Armin a glass.

Armin picked it up and took a sip. “Yeah they just wheel over a crate for us every month.”

“Rank hath it’s privileges.”

Armin went silent.

Reiner watched the stars over the mountains past the plain. Crickets chirped and fireflies traced out their secret language over the wet grass of a nearby stream. Horses snorted and pawed at the ground in the paddocks. It was peaceful at the Queen’s ranch. He could see why Historia refused to leave.

Sounds of laughter and good cheer drifted from the wedding after-party hosted in the guest house across the yard. As far as Reiner knew, everyone was there, even the servants. They’d left the so-called newlyweds to their own devices in the main house.

Armin finally spoke, “How bad was it?”

“I ran away and got sick in a vase.” He lifted the vase. “I cleaned it.”

“So that’s why you’re sitting with a vase. I was curious.”

“I’m going to put it back. Nobody wants to find puke in their things and I’m sure the acid is not good for an… expensive collectible vase. I mean if it wasn’t collectible before it certainly is now.”

“That’s very courteous of you.” Armin swallowed what was left in his glass and tipped it toward Reiner for a refill. “I’ve never seen you run away from a damn thing. What spooked you?”

“She touched my hand.”

“My god. The harlot.”

Reiner chuckled and took a drag on his cigarette. “Ha ha.”

“I thought it would go better than that. Didn’t you like her back in the day?”

Reiner chewed what he said over. “Maybe we should reconsider execution as a gesture of good faith.”

“Absolutely not.” Armin said.

“But—“

“No.”

Reiner stopped, he swirled the rum in his glass. “If it would help—“

“Goddammit no!” Armin thumped his glass down. “Even if you don’t give a fuck about yourself, you’re the perfect capstone to this madness. Almost everyone here owns a bit of you or wants to.”

“The Loyalists?”

“They own your guilt.” Armin said. “You conceding over the arranged marriage finally convinced them of it.”

“This entire alliance is like a noose around my neck. I’m just waiting for someone to kick out the chair.” Reiner hesitated. “Wait. You’re the only one who speaks with the Queen. Did you talk her into this?”

Armin didn’t answer.

Reiner tapped the ash off his cigarette and placed it in the notch in the tray. “You did. I should honestly beat the crap out of you. You sneaky, conniving—“

“Would it improve your mood?”

Reiner glared at him. “You know why we’ve never fought?”

“There’s no point. You’d let me win.”

“Because I would stand up.” Reiner stood up, “I would grab your head like this.” He pressed his palm against Armin’s forehead, “I would hold you out at arms length and what are you going to do? Nothing. Your arms are too short.”

Armin rolled his eyes. “Are you done imagining your revenge?”

Reiner dropped his hand. “I’m not a piece on your board Armin.”

“Well not exactly.” Armin smiled at him. “You saw the strategic advantage. And you chose it. I… just set the stage.” He sipped his rum. “If you were only a piece and not also another player, it would never have worked. I didn’t want them to think I convinced you. They needed to see you make this choice.”

Reiner shook his head. “When were you going to tell me she was Krista? You waited for the absolute last moment. And I’m not convinced you didn’t fake that telegraph failure.”

“She didn’t want you to know.” Armin said. “Not ‘till it became necessary.”

“Not ‘till you figured out the best way to use me to cement the Loyalists into the Alliance.” Reiner sat back down. He picked up his smoke. “I can’t be with her.”

Armin shrugged. “You won’t be. It’s a political marriage. It’s completely hollow. It might as well be an extension of the Duumvirate to a Triumvirate. You don’t have sex with me either.”

Reiner snorted, he pulled in a breath of smoke and blew it out. Then he leered at Armin, “You never asked.”

One corner of Armin’s lips quirked. “Ha ha.”

“But I still have to sleep in the same room with her.” Reiner rubbed his eyes. “We got to give the impression we’re consummating something.”

“Can you do that?”

“Yeah, well… As long as she doesn’t try to touch me, we should be fine. So she’s aware of all this too?”

“Yes.”

“I was looking at that kid in the front row wondering why she looked so familiar. The man beside her? Tall, blond man, sturdy for an Eldian, similar face shape to mine? He’s the father?”

“Sounds like Trevor.”

Reiner sighed. “She couldn’t have chosen a better match if she tried.”

“They’re not lovers.” Armin said.

“What?” Reiner stared at him. “Then how…?”

“She asked. He agreed.” Armin pulled his knees to his chest, resting his chin on them. “They’re friends at best. He’s living with the brunette girl he sat beside at the wedding. The kid is being raised by them.”

“So it wasn’t just the timing.” Reiner hid his head in his hands. “She had a loveless child as a tool to facilitate a genocide.”

Armin went silent. “I made a mistake. You can annul.”

Reiner closed his eyes. “Why? Like you said, it’s good strategy. It’s just another thing I have to fight through.” He finished off his drink, snuffed out his smoke in the ash tray, then picked up the vase and the bottle, standing. “Goodnight Armin.”

—

Reiner resettled the vase on the side table he’d taken it from and knocked at the door to the Great House’s master bed room.

“It’s unlocked.” Historia called from within.

He took a deep breath and turned the knob, letting the door swing open.

“You’re back.” She sat by the ornate vanity, brushing out her long blonde hair with a silver brush. She wore a white dressing gown that fell to her calves: Very modest. She only looked at him in furtive glances that didn’t make it above his shoulders.

He sidestepped into the room and closed the door behind him. When she stood, turning to step towards him, he flinched back against it and she stopped dead.

“I won’t touch you,” she said. She started to stroke the ends of her hair with her hands like a child. “You came back.”

“We can’t be too obvious that this is purely political.” He thought of Capozzi and Muller. Then the Loyalists. “There are a lot of expectations on both sides.” With her standing still, he opened the cedar hope chest at the foot of the master bed and found a quilt. He pulled it out and laid it down on the ground in the sitting area. “I’ll take the floor. I sleep better on a hard surface anyway.”

She didn’t say anything. Instead, she moved to slip into the bed.

Reiner placed the bottle on the sitting area table and sat in one of the chairs. He unlaced his boots and undressed, carefully draping his uniform over the second chair to reduce the creases. Once he was down to his undershirt and boxers he lay down on one half of the quilt and threw the other half over himself, pillowing his head on his arm.

He heard her blow out the lantern and the room went dark.

That first night, Reiner didn’t sleep at all. He listened to Historia try to muffle her sobs for hours and by the time her breathing became even, his nerves were too frayed for him to follow her into sleep. He thought about her touching his hand over and over, trying to figure out why he’d responded with such violent revulsion. He thought about why she had agreed to this. She must have recognized his name, right? Or maybe she didn’t remember him at all. He tried to figure out from their past interactions if that was a reasonable conclusion. In the deepest hours of night, when he was sure he would not be able to sleep at all, he hated himself for making her cry.

He waited until the dawn turned the night sky grey and got up, leaving before she woke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is dedicated to everyone who thinks peace is a cop-out.
> 
> If peace was easy, we'd try it more often. 
> 
> Jovus is my attempt at inventing a religious faith for Marley. Since there is a suggestion they're based on Romans, Jovus is based in part on Jupiter Optimus Maximus, the chief deity in Rome's state religion.
> 
> Also that trip to Fort Salta would have been like descending directly into hell. It's amazing the Scouts retained their sanity and only ended up questioning some their convictions.


	2. Heir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean is the Commander of the Survey Corps but there is nothing to survey; Mikasa's gone into the infantry. Armin and Annie share a moment. Reiner continues to do his duty. 
> 
> **Note** I realize that this story is edging closer to Mature than Teens so I had to up the rating. Apologies to anyone who gets thrown by the ratings change. The sexual content in this chapter is not explicit but somewhat intense.

“Ah, back from the Great Rumbling Fuck All.” Jean threw his duffle onto his bed. He’d just got back. Armin had taken off immediately from the Port to the Queen’s Ranch; Jean had stayed behind to help oversee the unloading of the Hizuru steamer for a couple days before returning to the oh-so-imaginatively named Alliance town.

Connie lay down beside it, grinning up at him. “Let’s play some cards.”

“Get off my bed, Connie. We shared a tent for two weeks straight. I don’t want to play cards with you. I want to sit here by myself and get drunk with God.” Jean sat at his desk, pulling out a bottle of wine from one of the drawers. He said a prayer of thanks that it was still there. He got a corkscrew out and uncorked the bottle, taking a swig. It wasn’t great, but it would do the job.

Connie waved for the bottle. “Give it here.”

“Goddammit.” Jean passed it over, frowning. “You owe me. What a nightmare. I don’t even know how Onyakopon manages to navigate the vast nothing for miles. Thanks Eren. You saved us all so we can die of fucking boredom. My luck, huh? Promoted to Survey Corps commander and all I have to survey is a wasteland with nothing in it.”

“And the island.” Connie offered helpfully.

“Yeah, the tip of the island. Just the tip. Unless we want to get shot at.” Jean slapped a stack of manifests left on his desk. “I’m a glorified shop keep. I survey inventory. And I make maps.” Jean sighed. “Well, okay. The maps are interesting.” 

“At least it’s not dangerous.”

Jean grabbed the bottle back and took two gulps. “You’re right. Aside from the background danger of sitting on a powder keg.”

“Is there any place safe on the Island?” Connie raised his hands up above himself. “If you get shot or shelled you die just the same.”

Jean wiped his mouth. He stood. “You know what? I don’t feel like drinking alone anymore. Let’s go find the 3rd Armoured. They have the best gossip.” Jean pulled Connie off his bed by the man’s foot. Connie yelped but managed to balance on his other foot and a hand to stop himself from falling like the agile little squirrel he was.

Jean gave him a hand up and they left his office and bunk: single bunk, a great luxury. Jean shook his head and closed his door, locking it. He’d learned the hard way that bored Infantrymen were both inventive and destructive.

He walked down the hall to the stair that would take them to the officer’s barrack’s main floor.

There was little use for the ODGM gear in conventional war—not to mention the Scouts fighting force was down to himself, Connie, Mikasa, Levi and Armin. None of the Warrior Infantry were interested in learning the skill. They had two general reactions: Visceral horror at being thrown into stark relief against the sky and becoming, as they said, a perfect bullet stop or contempt at the gymnastics. Although they did give Jean respect for his swordsmanship and were astounded how he could ‘flit around like a fairy and not cut his own damn head off.’

Jean had realized quickly there was something of a gulf between his thinking and the Warrior Infantry: he’d joined the military not ever believing he’d have to kill a person. He’d never even asked himself the question: If I had a choice would I kill? And he hadn’t answered that question, even when politics had piled up around him and shoved him into do or die situations over and over, giving him no choice. He hadn’t really answered it until the Alliance was about to fight their first battle against the Yeagerists and Reiner had offered to let them sit it out.

The Warrior Infantry had gone into the military knowing they were going to kill actual living humans: People just like them.

At the thought of going through training again, learning a whole new way of combat that wouldn’t showcase his graceful athleticism and spatial brilliance but demand gritty single mindedness to the point of absolute stupidity… and doing so in the full knowledge he’d be applying his skills to kill people, Jean had decided to just retire upwards instead.

Jean walked out of the Officer’s barracks onto the veranda skirting the four story building—the fall air was cool on his skin and he considered going back in for a jacket—but then noticed Major Gottfried, the highest ranking remaining officer of the 3rd Armoured, leaning on the veranda rail. Gottfried was watching the exercise yard intently. Jean liked talking to the 3rd Armoured. They could speak in full sentences, not just growls and four letter words, they had technical and mechanical smarts, and, most importantly, they had a great appreciation for maps. Gottfried had told Jean once that he respected him even more for making himself useful even if it was behind the lines and not skating by on his well-earned valour. ‘Your maps will save our lives one day, sir,’ he’d said. Jean grinned and trotted over. “Gottfried!”

Gottfried turned to salute. “Sir.”

“Please, just Jean.”

Gottfried hesitated, lowering his hand with obvious discomfort. “Jean.” He turned to Connie. “Sir.”

Connie snorted. “I’m just Connie too.”

Despite their skepticism of the Scout’s military tactics, all the Warriors regarded the Scouts as war heros, if not something bordering on the divine.

The exercise yard was unusually busy for the evening. Infantry wandered around in small packs, wearing tan fatigues and grey singlets. Some of them were exercising, all of them jostling around and the air crackled with potential violence.

Jean saw Mikasa. Unlike him she had gone into infantry training and now she was Captain of a troop. With Eren gone, her standoffish insubordination had evaporated and she just melded into the Warrior Infantry like she’d always been one of them. The Infantrymen loved her, they called her the “Beautiful beast”.

She was walking beside the Captain of another Infantry company: A man named Brandeis. Brandeis was tall—taller even than Jean—and irritatingly good looking, with dark brown hair and green eyes, high cheekbones, strong jaw and a dark hawkishness about him. He reminded Jean very much of Bertholdt. Not friendly Bertholdt, the Bertholdt they’d faced on the battlefield: The Bertholdt with a killer’s eyes.

Jean frowned. Even with Eren stuck in Paths, she was still well beyond his reach. Just his luck. Probably also what he deserved for even thinking of profiting off of… what had happened.

More Infantry moved into the exercise yard in twos and threes. Their muttered conversation filtered across the yard but Jean couldn’t make it out. “What’s going on? Why’re the bayonets getting restless?”

“Feels like something bad is about to happen, sir—Jean.” Gottfried nodded towards the Infantry skulking around like wolves. “They say they smell blood.”

—

Pieck carefully lifted a metal canister from the steel crate. The crate was full of them. Her fingers trembled; it was light as a pebble but the weight of what it held terrified her.

“What's that?” Falco asked, he paused in pulling out medical supplies from the crate he was working to inventory. They were in Pieck's office: a desk tucked into a corner of the warehouse holding everything they'd managed to reclaim from the waste the Colossals had left behind.

“It’s the index to the International Library’s Juridical, Social and Cultural Documentation.” She brought it to her desk, opened it and pulled open a drawer to get out a pair of clean cotton gloves. She slipped them on to lift the canister’s lid. “This is what we were looking for in the bunker. It’s everything that’s left of the World’s history. Outside of what Hizuru and Ashanti have in their own vaults. Millions of historical documents, including what we have left of the original culture of Marley.”

“That’s exactly right Pieck.”

Pieck tensed, she glanced up, watching Zeke limp into the room, leaning heavily on his cane. He looked far older than his 32 years. She frowned, “Zeke.”

He’d betrayed almost everyone in the course of pursuing his insane sterilization solution—if Eldians couldn’t have children, then their titan powers would fade from the world. But in the end he’d fought with them against his even more insane brother. Still, Pieck hadn’t completely forgiven him for the deaths of her Panzer unit during his betrayal of the Warriors. He was under house arrest in the Research buildings in Alliance Town; mostly because if he stepped one foot out and was spotted by the Warrior Infantry, he’d be a greasy smear in the street. Pieck couldn't say she'd blame them.

“It’s such a weighty moment.” He smiled sadly. “Why didn’t you wait for me?”

“I didn’t know I had too.” She blinked. “Was that a pun?” She groaned. “Oh that was awful.”

Falco moved closer as Pieck lifted a thin microfilm reel from the canister. “This is it, what remains of the world’s wisdom.”

“It contains a possible solution to some of our problems.” Zeke said. “In those historical documents is the answer to the question of why the original Eldian King hated Marleyans.”

—

Armin stopped at the gate to the Warrior’s compound. Unexpected movement had caught his eye. The guard saluted them, he offered a Scout’s salute back. “What’s going on?” 

“Who knows.” Hofferson said. “Maybe someone threw raw meat into their cage.”

Armin looked through the wrought iron gate into the exercise yard beyond.There was an unusual amount of Infantry jogging, exercising and wandering for the hour; it was completely outside their habits.

Armin had observed the Warriors for months now. Reiner meshed with them almost seamlessly. They and Reiner followed the same schedule, got up at the same time, ate at the same time, dismantled and cleaned their small arms in the same order, preformed the same exercises… When they walked together they stepped to the same silent cadence. And they shared an unconscious language—reading each other’s bodies, moods, thoughts instinctively—like all soldiers that had fought together for a long time.

The Scouts might have his heart, but the Warrior Brigade owned him body, mind and soul.

Not only would the Warriors easily pick up that the marriage was hollow, it was probable they would see Historia as a threat to Reiner. Either useless dead weight or, worse, some kind of evil, power hungry succubus. Like Capozzi except even more so, coloured by their possessive loyalty.

Armin grimaced. He could force them to marry, but he couldn’t force it to be what it really needed to be. He walked past the gate, Hofferson following after throwing a disgusted look at the compound.

Hofferson caught up. “Duovir. The Marleyans have advanced technology and training. They have infantry and Army Engineers and an Air Force. We have farmers and a handful of soldiers. The asymmetry is—“

“Yes I know. Didn’t Braun’s decision to marry the Queen give you some peace of mind?”

Hofferson leaned close. “We must lay our foundation now before we end up being second class citizens in some New Marley. And second class is optimistic. Their energy and drive is admirable. It’s also monstrous. They could build a civilization before we finish morning tea.”

“Yeah.” Armin nodded. “They do nothing by halves. But we do have one thing they don’t.”

Hofferson tilted his head. “Land?”

“Women.” Armin said. “They are half military and four fifths male. Who are they going to have their children with? And with the Yeagerist civil war depopulating Eldia of its young men, this might be a problem that solves itself. As dark as that is. Annie is half Marleyan. Reiner is half Marleyan. That happened under the threat of execution and with alternatives to our defiled blood. Obviously lust transcends hatred. And self preservation. Even for them.” Armin chuckled. “As you said, they have a lot of energy and drive. It’s going to find an outlet.”

“Then we need an example for them to follow. That marriage gave us peace of mind, Duovir. But an heir would give us a future.”

Armin stared at Hofferson. “An heir?” Shit.

They stopped before the town’s Great House, an imposing stone fortress that once housed the mayor and much of the administrative functions of the town. Armin lived in a small two room apartment in the domestic wing.

Armin laughed lightly, catching Hofferson’s hand to shake it. “These things are not entirely in our control are they? I’ll take my leave, Magistratus.”

Anger flashed through Hofferson’s eyes and Armin’s stomach dropped. He realized he’d been too flippant.

Hofferson gripped his other hand over Armin’s his fingernails digging in painfully. “Armin, I need to impress upon you the urgency of healing this rift. Eldians may not be able to build the future like the Marleyans, but we are quite capable of killing it in the cradle.” Hoffman pulled Armin close. “And if we feel like we’re not going to be part of it, that is exactly what will happen.”

Armin stared back. “Is that a threat Hofferson?”

“It’s a promise. You have one chance and your man better deliver. Now I’ll take my leave, Duovir.”

Armin kept himself upright and composed as Hofferson walked away down the street. When he’d disappeared around the corner, Armin unlocked the side entrance to the great house and stepped inside.

He closed the door behind him and slid down to sit on the ground. He pounded the wall with his fist. “Goddammit! That son of a bitch!” 

He cradled his smarting hand against his stomach. He felt sick. But he’d known the entire time, hadn’t he? He was sacrificing Reiner: putting him in a pot and turning up the heat by increments. 

After he got his breathing under control, he picked himself up and started walking up the stairs to the second floor to his apartment.

Listlessly he unlocked the door and entered, pulling off his scarf and jacket and hanging them in the entry way closet. He paused to pull some packets out of his jacket pocket and moved into the sitting area. Pots of plants filled every single surface, many of them herb plants. Annie wasn’t in among them.

He glanced into the master bedroom and saw her drowsily waking from a nap. “Hey.” He said. “I got you some more seeds.” He handed her the packets and smiled to himself as beamed at his gift. It was Annie’s new favourite hobby, cultivating seeds found in Marley’s military vaults, to assist with two of her most favourite activities, cooking and eating.

“Marshmellow. Holy basil.” She smelled the basil. “This is going to taste great. Thank you!” She levered herself awkwardly up to give him a hug. “How did it go with Reiner?”

“He… didn’t take it well.” Armin admitted. “I didn’t think it would go that badly.”

“Badly? What did that idiot do?”

“Eh… I probably shouldn’t say. It’s personal.” Armin pulled off his pistol and hung it off his bedpost. “Considering the sheer amount of shit everyone has been through, I am not surprised by anything anymore. To be honest I was wondering when Reiner would start to go sideways. He’s carried us all emotionally for years.”

“He liked her.” Annie grimaced. “Really liked her. Palpably. That scary bastard would turn to goo around her.” 

“Scary?” Armin repeated, shrugging out of his shirt and hanging it in their closet. He thought of Reiner’s laughter in the plane on the way to Fort Salta and shivered. It had reminded him of Eren’s deranged laugh after learning about Sasha’s death. “I suppose he can be.”

“You’ve fought against him but you’ve never really clashed with his will.” Annie smiled. “But then again, I’d imagine you would be more than a match. You wouldn’t hit him head on, you’d just… arrange things so he comes to your conclusions on his own. Actually you two make a good team. You aim, he fires.”

“Do you think I was too ruthless with him?” Armin pulled off his fatigues.

“Hmm.” Annie propped her hand in her chin, thinking.

It’s one of the things Armin liked most about her. Instead of just supporting him, she’d think hard and then deliver a genuine opinion.

“I don’t think he’s going to hold it against you.” She struggled to sit up and Armin caught her hand to help, putting a pillow behind her back.

“I have never seen Reiner hold anything against anyone. But if he was normal…”

Annie rolled her eyes. “There’s no point thinking of him in terms of normal human emotions.” She caught his face. “He probably just using it as an opportunity to do his favourite activity. Hating himself. Maybe that’s what it is. He’d rather hate himself than love someone else.”

“Wow. You are really biased.”

Annie kissed him. “Shut up about Reiner.”

He kissed her back and she pulled off his singlet, running her hands down his chest. He’d had a late growth spurt, putting on an inch or two of height and muscle since they’d first started dating. Annie herself—setting aside the obvious change—had gotten softer, her favourite activity eventually catching up with her a little bit. Not that Armin was complaining.

He let her push him back on the bed until he was propped up on one elbow, his hand behind her head as he deepened their kiss. When they parted to take a breath he smiled at her flushed, panting face and the fact she looked so hungry. “You’re cute.” He said. He lay back, hiding his eyes behind his hand. “I’m sorry, I’m so tired.”

“I can do the work.” She said.

Armin grinned at her. “Then don’t get mad if I fall asleep.”

“If you fall asleep, I draw on your face. That’s the deal.”

He chuckled. Then he frowned, rubbing his eyes again. “I feel bad.”

“You’re back on him again are you?” She threw her hands up in frustration. “Seriously? Look. He chose you as his Duovir, do you think he did that not knowing you’re a sneaky bastard? He probably did it because you’re a sneaky bastard. He’s putting himself in your hands; he’s trusting you’ll send him where he needs to go. Let him figure out how he gets there.”

“What if I made a mistake?”

Annie snorted. “He’ll follow your mistake to the bitter end.”

He sighed. “That doesn’t help.”

“He’ll survive.” Annie pressed her palms to the sides of his face. "Look. I'll talk to him. He's my sort-of brother now. Oh!" Wonder brightened Annie's face. "She's moving.”

Armin pulled himself up to press his cheek against Annie's belly. "Hello, squid. Practicing your kicks?”

"Wow, she's going crazy. Must have missed you."

Armin kissed the spot that had just dimpled out and closed his eyes. "The Alliance has to work. I have to make it work.”

—

Reiner brought the axe down on the trunk, splitting off another log. He was about finished bucking the tree he’d found by one side of the house. Someone had felled it for firewood, dragged it to the yard then apparently forgotten to finish the task. He started on the last section, losing himself in the motion and the feel of the axe biting deep. When he’d broken the final section down to good sized logs, he threw them into his pile by the chopping block and picked one out to start splitting it.

Across the yard the guest house and barracks had finally gone silent. They’d still been at it when Reiner had woken at dawn, only finally starting to shut up and settle down when the sun was cresting the horizon. Then a dozen of them had run out into the field, maybe to burn down a barn or something.

Reiner dropped the log on the block and aimed his axe. He’d managed to split two logs before he felt eyes on his back and turned. Historia stood on the Ranch house porch, watching him. Her light blue eyes caught his for a split second before she dropped her gaze, blushing.

His brow drew. He decided it was due to the awkwardness of it all. “I figured I'd make myself useful.” Reiner picked up another chunk of wood and placed it on the chopping block. "I know you have a cord of wood in the woodshed, but winters are bad here right?"

"Thank you." Historia said. "Trevor used to help me with that. A message came through the ticker for you.” She stepped to the edge of the porch, holding out a bit of folded paper in her hand.

He caught it without touching her.

He nodded and opened the paper.

_**Try Harder. Sorry. Armin.** _

“You’re kidding me, Arlert.” He crumpled the paper and threw it. “Dealing with you is like being sucked into quicksand.” He wiped his eyes with his hand. “What don’t you understand about no?” 

“Bad news?”

He looked back. Historia was stroking her hair again, staring resolutely at the planks of the porch floor. She was wearing something more suited to working with horses, tight tan breeches and a white blouse. The wedding dress she'd worn had been modest, even unflattering, and he'd barely been able to see her through the veil. They hadn't kissed, thankfully. Apparently the Paradisian tradition didn't include that. And once he'd realized it was her, he'd been otherwise occupied by his horror.

Guiltily he gave her an appraising look, cataloguing changes from when he’d seen her last—her face was thinner, more mature, beautiful rather than cute. Her figure had filled out as well, even if the blouse was loose, the breeches hugged her hips.

He thought of running his hand along the curve of her thigh and the fantasies he'd had about her as a teenage boy flashed across his mind's eye: everything he had wanted her to _want_ him to do. He was breathless for a moment, his lust like a gun going off inside him. Apparently he hadn't managed to kill that part of himself, even if he'd left it for dead. Right on the heels of his arousal was the grotesque context--she’d helped Eren murder the world. That endless scream rose as hot static in his ears.

He stood impassively, trying to fight through the storm of disgust and desire. It became clear why he had been revolted. She might have triggered it, but it wasn't even at her, not entirely, it was at himself. Mostly. No, it was also her. Actually, it was the idea of _them_. He pressed his fist to his mouth to fight back the nausea and he knew he’d just flushed red because he felt his ears burning.

“Do you need water?”

“Don’t.” He said.

She looked at him wth open concern. “I know. Don’t come near you.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice was harsh, like he’d been swallowing shrapnel. “It’s not fair to put you through this.”

“Fair?” She said, a note of anguish in her voice. “You don’t think I know what I did? Do you think I feel like I deserve better?”

Reiner stared at her. “You want to be hurt?”

“You must hate me.”

“I don’t have the right.” Reiner picked up the axe and swung it hard. It split the wood, sending the two sides spinning across the yard and embedded into the chopping block near to the handle. He braced his foot against the block to wrench it out again. Then stopped after a few yanks, breathing hard. The axe was embedded deep and he was too agitated to think properly. “Considering what I’ve done I have no right to hate you.”

“But you do.” Her voice was tiny.

“This… thing that’s happening to me, it isn’t because of you. Something in my brains got scrambled. It’s not your fault, being around you just triggers it somehow.” He wiped the sweat from his face. “Just let it go.”

She wouldn’t. “You have the right.”

He turned to face her. “Do you want me to say I hate you?” Something about her insistence on being punished upset him even more. He stalked towards her, grabbing her arm: Ignoring the dizziness, the static, the awful feeling of snuffing it. She winced but submitted to his grip as he pulled her close. “Would it make you feel better to be judged? To be punished? Would that take the weight off?” He’d begged Eren to make him disappear because the guilt and shame was too great to bear. He begged the man he’d hurt most for _mercy._ “Do you want me to hurt you?” He released his grip. “I’m not your executioner. I’m just another criminal.”

Her eyes searched his. “I want to... take it all back.”

“We can’t go back.” Reiner closed his eyes. _Try harder._ “But we can build a future for other people.” When he opened his eyes he settled his hands on her shoulders. “No matter what it takes.”

She looked down, her shoulders dropping. When she looked up again she looked resolute. She nodded. “No matter what it takes.”

He frowned and, bracing himself, caught the side of her face. With a swift movement before he could lose his nerve he kissed her. When he started to pull back, she held onto his shoulders and kissed him back, prodding his lips open with her tongue, deepening the kiss, to his shock. He lifted her up—because she was ridiculously short and crouching was making his back hurt—until she was above him, her fingers fisted painfully in his hair, her thighs clenched around his sides, kissing him with passion and he couldn’t even begin to guess where that came from. Patriotic fervour? 

If anything the awful feeling got worse—like his throat was stuffed full of cotton soaked with bile and sulphur—and a dense, aching panic joined it in his chest. Despite all that, despite the layers of carnage inside him, his lust still seeped through and pooled like groundwater in a trench.

He carried her back into the Ranch house door. He tried to open it with a foot for a few clumsy seconds before she remembered she had hands and pulled it open herself. He then carried her to the kitchen table. He didn’t like how light she was; it made his anxiety worse. He knew what he was doing was wrong and it bothered him that she wouldn’t be able to stop him if she tried.

Once he’d dropped her to the tabletop, he pitched forward, using his greater height to make enough space from her to breathe though his nose uninterrupted. Deep breaths to stop his gagging.

Later when he’d almost convinced himself he’d forced her into it, he remembered that she had pulled open his fatigues and yanked them down herself and then taken off her breeches, all while he was trying to control his freakish nausea.

“I’m sorry.” He said. “This is awful for you.”

She shook her head and then she grabbed his shoulders to pull herself close, “No.”

He was embarrassed to admit that she did a lot of the work, at least at first. It was hands down his worst effort. Even worse than when he’d lost his virginity in his first chosen and unmemorable drunken fling before a battle.

But with her breathing hard in his ear—she seemed to be able to take care of herself at least—some animal instinct took over and for an instant he out ran that broken seeping mess inside him. He felt something close to pleasure. He caught the small of her back and behind her head and started moving with her.

Her breath quickened, interrupted with little hitched moans—if she wasn’t physically enjoying it, she was a very good actor—he screwed his eyes closed and just tried to imagine nothing else existed but the sound of her gasping, the feel of him inside her and her arms holding him. He willed himself into some kind of apotheosis and gave it fifty-fifty odds that he’d managed to seal the deal; he’d given up trying to figure out what his body was signalling anymore. The instant he stopped, the nausea came crashing back. He left her so fast she yelped a protest and he still barely made it to the sink.

None of his fantasies had ended with her curled into a ball, weeping helplessly. If she’d harboured any for him he doubted they ended with him heaving his guts out in the kitchen sink, trying to stuff his wits back into his head.

After he’d finished puking, he clasped his hands together, pressing his head against them and prayed to Jovus for forgiveness then willed himself to calm, taking deep breaths to a count of six. When he’d managed to gather himself, he rinsed out the sink and glanced back at her. She was crying so hard she’d started to hiccup, the heels of her hands pressed into her eyes. He felt like shit: like he’d just wasted a friendly.

He didn’t dare walk over and do something soothing because without the lust he’d just feel the nausea.

He pulled a bottle of whiskey out of her drinks cabinet and two glasses. He poured both of them a drink, sliding hers across the table. He dropped into the chair across from her. “I guess everyone’s happy now. It’s a legitimate, consummated marriage.”

She picked up the glass in both hands and chuckled weakly as she took a swallow of whiskey. “We did our duty.”

“Yeah.” He thought of Armin’s message and felt an entirely new type of sick. He drained his glass, poured another. “I jogged along your fence line this morning. I noticed it needs some repairs. I’ll get on that.”

She nodded, her head bobbing a little too vigorously. “I’ll saddle a horse for you.”

They lapsed into silence. Reiner almost felt a sense of companionship in their mutual misery. They were both exactly as awful as the other. Well. He was still worse.

That night he managed to get to sleep a bit past sundown. He woke up to the sound of someone’s step coming towards him: discipline kept his breath even as he slipped his hand towards his pistol. He realized it was Historia from the light step and relaxed. She knelt beside him and then curled against his back. In the dark, turned away from her, he didn’t feel sick, just a painful loneliness as she shivered against him, apparently willing to brave the cold in order to do it. He didn’t dare move; instead he spent a good portion of the night trying to will heat into her through his back and figure out why she’d feel compelled to huddle beside him at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reiner's sanity meter is now on empty. No more sanity left.
> 
> Expect shenanigans.


	3. Rumours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Historia thinks about why exactly she chose to agree to an arranged marriage. Reiner flips a table. Jean protects his beverage. Armin is not amused. 
> 
> A hint of YumiKuri.

\--Queen's Ranch--

Historia padded out onto the porch from the kitchen. She’d woken up on her bed, wrapped in the quilt he’d been using, and she had no memory of getting up from the floor to go back to bed. She still had it around her shoulders; it was a chilly morning, she rationalized. More guiltily she acknowledged that it smelled like him.

“Reiner?” She called, meekly.

She heard footsteps on the roof, then his lower half dropped into view as he grabbed the eave and lowered himself down. He angled his hips and legs forward to clear the porch rail and jumped down, landing like a cat. She watched his unselfconscious display of strength and agility mutely.

“I was cleaning the eavestroughs and checking the roof. You had trees growing in your troughs. There’s some broken and warped shingles too. Your roof is probably leaking. I’ll look over the rafters for rot before I leave.” He lifted his shirt to wipe his face.

Her eyes flicked to his exposed stomach. The actual words he said turned into a buzz in her ears.

She, Ymir and Sasha had once caught him in the front hall mud room at the indoor well, undressed to the waist, trying to clean his dirty, soaked shirt in a bucket of well water. Sasha’d shouted in surprise; which had flustered Reiner, who’d apologized for being half naked. Sasha’d asked him if she could touch his abs—because she got goofy notions sometimes—and he’d shrugged and let her. Historia had watched Sasha run her hand up his stomach, rooted to the spot, until Ymir had leaned close: “do you want to do that too?”

At some point, Sasha might have tried to bite him or something, because the next thing Historia knew he had her in a headlock and she was squealing while he ground his knuckles into her hair. Ymir had a mischievous grin on her face as she pushed Historia forward; when her hand touched his skin, he’d stopped short, staring down at her, Sasha forgotten. She ran her hand up his stomach, like Sasha had, over the bunched muscle. His reaction was completely different: He trembled under her fingers, breathed out hard and when he blushed, because he was so fair it showed all the way down his neck to his chest. She’d looked at his lips and wondered what it’d be like to kiss him and she realized she was flushed too, her whole body tingling in a way that only Ymir had done to her up to that point.

Sasha struggled to get free and Reiner stepped back, breaking their contact. Historia glanced back at Ymir and she saw, for a split second that soft, sad smile that Ymir got whenever she was doing something entirely for someone else at her own expense.

“Historia?”

She blinked, brought back to the present. His shirt was back down. She very much wanted to run her fingers under it. Instead she fisted her hands at her side.

“I said I was making a list.” He pulled a notepad and pencil out of his fatigues. “Of everything that needs to be fixed. Is there anything you think I should put on it?”

She nodded stupidly and she knew she was flushed because she couldn’t get what they’d done the day before out of her head. Even if it was awful for him, she wanted more. More of the best parts of it; the part where he’d started to move too and she’d listened to him panting and—

“Historia. Are you okay?” He didn’t move to touch her, of course, just watched her with a concerned expression.

“I’m fine. I’ll think about it.” She made an abrupt about face and nearly hit her head on the screen door in her disorganized retreat back to the kitchen. She stared aimlessly at the metal sink, the countertop, her set of knives, then some sense leaked in. She pulled out some apple juice from the ice box and poured two glasses, setting them on the table and dropping down in front of hers.

Sipping the juice grounded her a bit. She thought about how miserable and sick he’d looked and she felt terrible about it, but at the same time part of her had been aroused at his helplessness. She hated herself for not stopping and she could tell herself it was her duty all she wanted, but that was a lie. She’d taken advantage of the situation _and him_ for her own selfish reasons. She fisted her hand in her hair, leaning on her palm and letting her hair fall forward to shield her face. 

He came through the door. She looked up. He’d taken off his shirt; it was wadded up in his hands. He placed the notepad and pencil on the kitchen table and pushed it towards her. “If you can think of anything, write it in.” He lifted his shirt up, “I got pretty dirty. Where’s the laundry room?”

She nodded mutely and pointed to a room down the hall from the kitchen. When he turned to walk toward it, she got a good view of his back. He was thinner than he’d been but still very broad. She squeezed her thighs together, pressed her hands in her lap and screwed her eyes tight. Once she heard water slosh into the wash bucket she opened her eyes and picked up her juice and took several gulps, then eyed the liquor cabinet. It wasn’t even fully daylight.

She heard the crank of the ringer, the sound of something being hung on a line and he walked back into the kitchen.

“What is the Garrison doing anyway?” Reiner dropped down in front of his glass of juice. He’d put his over shirt on without his singlet but he didn’t have it buttoned.

Historia clutched her glass in both hands, feeling like she was going to melt.

“I saw half a dozen of them run out into a field. To do what exactly? Burn shit down? Form a daisy chain? I don’t even know if they’ve come back. I haven’t seen a single patrol and most of them have been wasted the entire time I’ve been here.” He picked up the juice, sipping it. “Between that guest house and barracks you have over thirty able bodied men and yet you don’t have enough wood for winter, your roof is a mess, your fences aren’t fixed and your barn needs to be re-painted. And that’s just the start.”

Historia didn’t say anything.

“Historia.” He leaned forward on his arms on the kitchen table. She realized he had a light dusting of chest hair; which was new. _It’s because he’s a man now._ She wondered what it would feel like to run her fingers through—

“Historia!” He tapped his fingers on the table to get her attention. “You don’t need to tolerate this neglect. Even if you don’t care about yourself, you have influence that can help others. You need to demand respect for your position.”

Under his intense scrutiny Historia blushed harder, cringing away and curling her arms over her stomach. The heat inside her was becoming unbearable. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?”

 _For taking advantage of you._ She sniffled, wiping her tearing eyes with her thumbs. She couldn’t get the words out.

“You don’t need to apologize to me. I don’t mean to be harsh.” He was looking at her with concern again. “You can’t just rely on the enemy not knowing your location. You have to assume they do and take precautions. For now I’m going to leave you the jeep. Pack it up with supplies and if anything happens, just take it and run. I don’t trust the Garrison not to flee. Or be sober enough to fight.”

“How are you going to get back?”

“I’ll jog. Hike. It’ll take me a day. Small price to pay to know you have a fallback. I’m going to replace some of the Garrison with my own soldiers.”He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “That’ll be a one hell of an argument. But this situation can’t continue. I’ll leave immediately to correct it.”

Historia’s stomach clenched, she clutched the quilt around herself. “Leave?”

“It’ll take longer for me to get back without the Jeep and time’s wasting.”

“I’ll give you a horse.” She said.

Reiner hesitated. “That’s unnecessary.”

“You’ll get there quicker.”

He seemed to want to object then stopped. “You’re right.”

Historia stood up, she turned towards the stair to go back to her room to dress. He stood up with her and stepped over, catching her hand.

She glanced back, her heart in her throat. He still had the same look of intense discomfort and intense focus to control his discomfort. He caught her chin in finger and thumb. “Hold your head up, Historia.” He took a deep breath and leaned down to give her a light kiss.

She caught his neck, tempting fate by opening her mouth and nibbling his lower lip. _Please, please, please… one more time before you leave._

He flinched back, catching her shoulders to stop her from following. He was pale as a sheet.

“I’ll go check your rafters.” He dropped his hands and stepped back, and she felt the separation like he’d been sliced away. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I understand.” She turned and used all her strength to walk with some semblance of dignity to the staircase and up the stairs. As soon as she knew he couldn’t see her, she ran to the master room and closed the door behind her, locking it.

She stepped over to her bed and lay down, huddling underneath the quilt.

When Armin had asked her to consider a political marriage, she had seen the strategic advantage. But the reason why she had said yes had nothing to do with that.

She lifted the hem of her night gown and slipped her hand down her stomach, touching herself like Ymir had done, years before when they’d found a bit of time and privacy, in the few months they’d had together before Ymir had disappeared forever. Ymir always lost her impishness in those moments, it was replaced by a soft, longing look and Historia had been amazed that anyone could care for her that much, and then she’d been amazed that anyone could make her feel that good. Her body had always been a tool to get farm chores done or fulfill her orders as a soldier; that it could actually produce that kind of pleasure made life start to make a little more sense.

She thought of she and Reiner had done; She squeezed her thighs together, biting her lower lip to stifle her moans—just being touched again by another human being had been a relief bordering on pain. She had nothing to compare the experience too; to avoid the situation being even more awkward between her and Trevor she’d used a syringe to get pregnant.

There hadn’t been any discomfort, it just felt endlessly good to feel Reiner inside her. When he’d pressed his large hand against her back and started to move and she could feel the power of him, following her lead, it’d felt like the thrill of riding, joining wills with a creature stronger and faster than her. She pressed her face into the bed, hoping the blankets and mattress would muffle her as her fingers sped up.

The Rumbling hadn’t saved her; it had damned her. She was utterly alone, trapped in a tower made of her own uncountable sins.

Reiner had been the only thing Ymir had been able to save. Reiner had been the last person to ever treat Ymir like anything other than a tool. He was the last bit left of _her_.

She still building her tower higher and higher with everything she was doing to him. But she couldn’t help herself. No one understood, no one deserved to have to understand.

The only person who could possibly keep her company in her tower of sins was him.

He was doing everything out of selfless duty; she was doing it because she couldn’t stand being alone anymore. What was happening to him was her punishment for being selfish. She was sure of it. At the same time she couldn’t stop wanting him even if it was torturing him.

Historia sobbed into the blanket as she peaked, gasping, “Reiner.” She pressed her hands against her mouth, horrified. _I’m betraying you Ymir._

She laid on her side, tears leaking. She’d betrayed everyone now. Ymir. Reiner. The Scouts. The world. She’d even betrayed Eren by letting him destroy himself.

She and Reiner might share the same sins, but she was so much worse than him. The worst girl, no, the worst _person_ in the world.

—

Historia lead her favourite mare, a chestnut with four white socks she’d called, well, ‘Sock’ to the back porch of the ranch house. Sock was saddled and she’d put some sausage, cheese and tack bread in one of the saddle bags.

When she approached, Reiner was sitting on the steps, his head leaned up against the porch post, in his lap he was cradling one of her farm cats. He jerked upward when he heard her, and blinked muzzily, and she realized he must have fallen asleep like that. _He hasn’t been sleeping well._ She hated herself just a bit more.

“This is Sock.” She said tilting her head to the horse. “She’s big enough to carry you comfortably.”

“Are you sure? That’s a beautiful horse.” Reiner picked up the cat on his lap and very carefully settled it on the step. The cat, being a cat, still flicked its tail in annoyance despite his care and sauntered off. He stood up, made no motion to get close to the horse, “Hi Sock,” he said softly.

Sock turned her head towards him and he presented his hand in a loose fist, bumping it on the horse’s nose.

Historia had worked with horses all her life, she realized he’d picked up some of their language. When he turned to take the reins from Historia, Sock turned with him, nudging him back with her nose.

“I put some food in the saddle bag.”

“Thank you.” He lifted the reins over Sock’s head, letting them rest on her withers. He scratched and stroked down the horse’s neck.

“Are you going to be back soon?” She walked to the other side of Sock and mimicked his motion, stroking Sock’s neck.

“I don’t know. Depends on how things are going. I’ll send something through the ticker when I can. Give you an update.” Reiner hesitated. “It’s very peaceful here. Thank you for having me.”

Historia snorted. She leaned against Sock’s shoulder, resting her head against the warm fur and stroking Sock’s withers. “You’re my husband.”

“Yeah I guess so.”

She felt Sock shift and realized he must be doing the same as her. She felt him catch her fingers over the horse’s withers, lacing his fingers in with hers. She gasped. His hand was warm and his touch made her feel shaky. She leaned into Sock a little harder.

“I’ll figure this out.” His voice was low and soft. “Okay? I don’t want you hurt by my problem.”

She nodded. Then realized he couldn’t see her. “Okay.”

He let her hand go. “Alright. I better get going.”

She closed her eyes, pressing her face into Sock's shoulder. She listened to him put on his rucksack and shoulder his rifle. When he came back he started to lead Sock away from the buildings. Historia let her fingers trail over Sock as she walked past.

Before he’d left the yard. Historia called out. “If you have a girlfriend, please don’t leave her. I don’t think I could forgive myself if this takes you away from anyone you love.”

He stopped. Then laughed and turned. “Didn’t you read Ymir’s letter? I’m too creepy to get a girlfriend. She told me that she was going to tell you that because I was watching her write it.”

Historia laughed, wiping her eyes. “She could be pretty mean. You’re not creepy.”

“Yeah well. I’m here because of her. I owe everything to her. She gave me a second chance.” He shoved his foot in the stirrup and hoisted himself onto Sock’s back. He turned in the saddle to give Historia the scout’s salute. “Bye Historia.”

Historia watched him ride away. When her legs got tired, she sat in the dust of the drive in front of the Ranch house and watched the spot where he’d disappeared from view.

—Alliance Town—

“You shouldn’t let him threaten you.” Reiner said. “I should have realized Hofferson would take the first kick at the chair. Muller and Capozzi saw the Rumbling. Heard it. Tasted it.” Reiner breathed out hard. “There’s no man who could watch that and not lose all faith in his pride.”

“True.” Armin rubbed his chin, staring at the chess board between them. They sat in a room in the Great House, overlooking the Main Street of Alliance town. Although many of the original streets followed the land, the Marleyan additions were straight as an arrow, the new Main Street was no exception. In the early morning a few shop keeps were opening for business and people gathered in twos and threes to share gossip. That room was where they watched and strategized and they almost always had an ongoing game. This particular one had been going a couple days but was almost over as Reiner had cornered Armin rather badly. 

“Hofferson’s worried about getting his share of the pie that they’re building.” Armin lifted one of his remaining pawns and set it down. “It’s ego.”

“Yeah. The Loyalists let Historia sit in a unkept house with idiots for guards.” Reiner scratched his neck.“She spaces out a lot, too. Couldn’t follow a sentence. Like she’s got a malaise. How long has she languished like that? ”

“She’s basically a piece of Garrison equipment. It took me months for them to agree to put the ticker in so we could at least keep in contact. Took three years for us to build something they wanted to use her to lay claim too.”

“You did this for her too, didn’t you?”

“She deserves to be back with the Scouts.” Armin picked up his king, moving the piece one square back. “We’ll have to move your infantry in carefully, we don’t want anyone to know.”

“Actually I think we should make this a stage show.”

“Why?”

“Because this bigger than Hofferson. The fucking idiot is convinced there’s a conflict, when there is none. We want the same thing. I want the Eldians to be integrated with the Marleyans. I want them to feel like they own our future too.” Reiner picked up his queen. “Why didn’t she want you to tell me it was her? Why would she care either way?”

Armin hesitated. “Maybe because she didn’t want you to think less of her.” He sighed. “Actually, I’ll be honest. I didn’t tell you ’till the last moment because I was worried what you’d do. I couldn’t risk losing the Loyalists.”

“What I’d do?” Reiner’s brow drew.

“Reiner. You carried a letter for her despite risking execution for treason, into a battlefield and the first thought you had when you got captured and were about to be killed was to give it to your enemy and make sure they got it to her. Normal people don’t do things like that without a reason. I had no idea how you’d react if you knew. No way to stop you if you did. And I couldn’t risk it.”

“I promised Ymir.” Reiner said sullenly.

Armin stared at him. _He’s denser than Eren. How is that even possible?_ “Anyway. That’s your own business. I’m sorry it had to happen this way.”

“It doesn’t matter. I am your game piece. If I ever thought different it was just my stupid pride.” Reiner picked up his Queen. “Execute me. Throw me into battle. Marry me off. Do whatever you need to to make this work. Queen to A7. Checkmate.” Reiner took Armin’s King. “I shouldn’t have won, Armin.”

“You win sometimes.”

“Not this easily. If you’re throwing this to make me feel better, don’t bother.“

Armin smiled and shook his head. “I’m just distracted. Annie’s getting close to due.” He closed his eyes. “Everything feels so uncertain.”

“When did it ever feel certain?” Reiner started to set the board back up. He stopped, tapping a pawn against the table.

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m walking through the conversation we’re about to have with Hofferson in my mind, trying to figure out at what points I could start to escalate.”

“Wait. Escalate?”

“Nope. I get to blindside you too. Make sure to stack the room with Loyalists.” Reiner reset the pieces. “This was the path you chose for us. Give me my head and hang on.”

—

Reiner slammed his fist on the conference room table. “You pushed for this marriage. And I conceded without a fight. Are you telling me I can’t protect my wife?” 

After dealing with the minutia of governance—new roads, new claims for relief and citizenship, sewer systems, getting supplies, and disquieting noises coming out of their ally town Nedley—they’d come to the big contentious issue of the day. Loyalists representing various interests sat in the benches-merchants, craftsmen and some of the remaining Wallists, who'd seemed to transfer their faith to Historia instead. Armin watched Reiner carefully. He knew the man had been building up to something. The argument had gone on for an hour now and Armin was no longer sure that Reiner's increasing fury wasn't genuine. In fact he was certain it was; Reiner was genuinely losing his temper.

Hofferson glared at him, “This wasn’t part of it. Swapping out the Garrison for Warrior Infantry? That sounds like kidnapping.“

Reiner shot up, sending his chair flying across the floor. He caught the underside of the table top and—despite it being an oak slab—flipped it all the way over on its back, sending papers, water glasses, pens flying.

The men at the table had to jump back to avoid it being hit by it. Muller and Capozzi stepped back without a word, watching the unfolding scene with narrowed eyes. Jean had managed to save himself and his glass of brandy, his elbows were up as he stepped back, “Watch the beverage, Reiner!”

Parlav had got out of his seat as well, and now smiled minutely, his face taking on a wolfish quality. The Infantry always seemed to love it when shit was going down.

Armin had got out of his chair the instant Reiner had shot up, getting out of the flack zone quickly.

Reiner stared down Hofferson, his chest heaving.

Armin gaped at the expression on Reiner’s face: A determined, psychotic gleam. Like Eren’s but less… something. He couldn’t put his finger on it.

Jean reacted first. He reached for Reiner, “Reiner, no—“ Armin caught Jean’s hand, shaking his head.

Without another word, Reiner stalked over the flipped table, his army boots hitting the wood like a drumbeat. Still seated, Hofferson stared at Reiner’s advance, frozen either with fear or shock. “You won’t let me protect my wife?”

Finally he reacted. He stood and glowered at Reiner—Armin had to hand it to him, the man had some courage at least. ‘That scary bastard,’ Annie had said and Armin realized that she was right. There was a switch in Reiner’s brain that turned him from warm, good-natured, to pants-shittingly terrifying. 

“Are you threatening me?” Hofferson hissed.

Reiner stopped short. “Threatening _you_? No.” Reiner dropped to his knees in front of Hofferson and unbuckled his pistol holster, pulling it out. He caught Hofferson’s hand and slapped the pistol into it. He lifted the Magistrate’s hand in both of his own until the pistol barrel was pressed against his forehead. “This is your moment, Hofferson. Kill it in the cradle. Set it all ablaze. Shoot me right between the eyes. Or let me protect my wife.”

The two men stared each other down. Reiner with that deranged look; Hofferson responding with horror, indignation and confusion. The entire room was silent. Armin could have heard a feather drop. 

When it became obvious Hofferson would do nothing, Reiner let go of his hand. It was visibly shaking and as soon as Reiner wasn’t holding it up Hofferson dropped it to his side.

Hofferson glanced between the Warrior Captains Brandeis, Emil and Augustus. All three men had their hands on their side arms.

“Every single one of the men at this table would lay down their lives for the peace we’re trying to build. Including me. So you better be prepared to die to stop it, Magistratus.” Reiner stood. He caught the pistol from Hofferson’s slack grip. “Or is it the killing that bothers you?” Reiner laughed, re-holstering his side arm, the same fucked up laugh as Eren. Armin grit his teeth, hating the sound. “Kidnapping? What a joke. You still see the Garrison and the Infantry as opposite sides of a war? Welcome to mutually assured destruction. We die or live, together.”

Reiner strode back over the wreckage to Armin. Who could just stare at him in mute horror.

Silence descended over the room.

“What was that?” Armin gestured at the mess.

Reiner picked up his chair, sat down in it, he glared at everyone in the room. They were all watching him. “I think I made myself clear.”

Armin gaped at him. “No?”

“If you want to stop me from protecting my wife, you got to kill me, Hofferson.”

Another silence. Armin heard mutterings from the Loyalists in the benches. They'd probably be baffled and disturbed by Reiner's shocking display of... well it couldn't be called aggression, exactly. Self-sacrifice? Armin shook his head.

Capozzi spoke first. “I don’t know what this really was about but I can make an educated guess based on some grumblings I’ve been hearing. We built you Loyalists a working town and Parval protects it. What more do you want from us? To claim you did it yourself? That’s what’s worth threatening everything over? Three years ago there was a billion of us. Now there’s a million. We’ve each become a thousand times more precious. I tell you what, we’ll put a plaque on everything we build. We’ll dedicate it all to you. ‘Built by Hofferson and his massive cock.’ Because if it’ll make this work, I don’t give a damn who gets credit.”

Capozzi stood up. “I was against this marriage. But Hofferson, if you’re going to expect us to expose our bellies, you have to as well. I don’t see what’s irrational about the Marleyan Duovir’s proposal. If anything it makes perfect sense. If she’s no longer on the sidelines, she is going to need more protection. Considering what he’s told us I also share his concerns about the state of her accommodations and the Garrison’s fitness for duty. If she’s this valuable to you, why is she being treated like an afterthought. Now why this had to turn into a cock fight is… I don’t understand it. That was a waste of my fucking time.” Capozzi started to pick his papers up from the floor. “The next time you two want to posture, tell me so I can go get some real work done instead of watching two grown men act like children. You. And you.” He pointed at two Infantrymen. “Help me get this table back over.”

Emil and Dolphus moved over quickly to assist and between the three of them, they’d managed to heave it back up.

“Well.” Muller steepled his fingers together, nodding. “Good talk.” He patted Hofferson’s back then walked out, navigating the mess on the floor delicately.

Hofferson glared at Reiner, then adjusted the drape of his robes and followed Muller out the room.

Reiner stopped him with a hand before he could leave. He leaned close speaking low. “If you ever threaten Armin again, I’m going to cut off your balls, shove them up your ass and I’ll let Brandeis fuck you until they pop out your mouth. Now that is a threat.”

Brandeis chuckled. “Very creative, sir. Realistically he’d bleed to death first though.”

“You are threatening to rape and murder me?”

“Not at all. Brandeis is so good, you’ll thank me for making you a eunuch so you could enjoy his tender ministrations.”

Brandis snorted and laughed, then made an effort to straighten his face and resume an expression of menace. It looked more like he was constipated. Armin stalked over, both annoyed with them for screwing with Hofferson and deeply satisfied at witnessing his discomfort.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? I’m the goddamn Magistratus!”

“People like us have to go kill because people like you don’t do your job.” Reiner said. “As I get older I find that pisses me off more and more.”

“Reiner, enough.” Armin caught Reiner’s arm. “We need to plan how we’re going to manage the Queen’s security.” He leaned toward Hofferson. “My apologies, my Duovir is… very passionate about his wife’s safety.”

Hofferson glared at him, then pulled a kerchief from his pocket, wiped the sweat off his brow. “Whatever game you’re playing, I still expect results. Maybe try draping the Queen in an uncured goat skin. That is sure to get his interest.” He re-pocketed his kerchief, glared at Reiner and stalked off, barging through the doors.

“Did he just call me a goat-fucker?”

“I believe he did, sir.”

“I didn’t think he had it in him.”

“Are you both quite done?” Armin snapped.

Reiner and Brandeis beamed down at him, evidently enjoying the exchange of crude and violent humour. Reiner turned to his Infantry Captain. “Brandeis, you and Dolphus go get Mikasa and Augustus. Augustus was a stableboy so he’ll know the work. Ask Capozzi for an engineer squad. Civil works is probably closest. Get going.”

Brandeis nodded. “Yessir.” He waved Dolphus and Emil over and they left.

“Reiner.” Armin jerked his head towards the door. “Come with me. Jean you too.”

Jean held his hand out at Armin, finger and thumb pointing up. He was standing at the cabinet running the front wall of the Meeting room. He’d been in the middle of pouring himself another glass of brandy. He upended the bottle, filled the glass, downed it and set it back in one smooth move, then hopped over.

Armin scanned the long hall that lead to the main room and chose a conference room at random.

“No offence Armin, but if you ever stop living with Annie, you need to make sure to get a really big dog.” Reiner said.

“I’ll do that.” Armin pulled him into the room he’d chosen; Jean scooted in as the door closed. “Can we talk about what you just did.” Armin glared at Reiner. “You have this chaotic urge. You see a game board set up, and you just have to fling it in the air to see where the pieces end up.”

Reiner giggled. “I just established who the biggest lunatic in the room is.”

“I’m not saying that was unnecessary. Not what I would have done but I guess flipping tables and unhinged stunting is your style. But that sound you’re making… Please stop.”

“Yeah, it’s unnerving.” Jean leaned back on the table. “A little too ‘into the mind of madness’. Shall we say.”

“Unhinged stunting? You make it sound like it doesn’t have a strategy to it.” Reiner groused.

Jean stared at him. “That’s what you take issue with? You’re okay with being seen as insane but you don’t want to be seen as insane and _random_.”

“Oh shut up, both of you.” Armin sighed, “Come here.” He waved for them both to come closer, he caught both of their necks. Reiner did the same. Jean followed suit after a moment, and they all huddled, heads together. “I’m guessing that was a show for the Infantry as well as the Loyalists right?”

“Yes.” Reiner said. “I told you you didn’t have to worry about Capozzi.”

“Conceeded.”

Jean glanced between them. “What’s happening here right now in this place?”

“Quiet Jean, just follow along. Capozzi’ll have a different view of things too now.” Armin said.

“Probably not as suspicious of the marriage. I guess I let Hofferson think he had the bit in his teeth too much. But, he got baited into overplaying his hand so… net win?”

Jean blinked. “I thought you didn’t trust Armin, Reiner.”

“Where did you get that idea? I trust him to play his side of the board better than I can. He just sometimes… surprises me is all.”

Armin tilted his head at Reiner. “And I trust him to play his. Although that was one hell of a risk. You put a lot of pressure on Hofferson.”

“I’m not worried about him. He doesn’t have the stomach to kill. What worries me more is that he might have started something he doesn’t have any control over.” Reiner said. “Who is providing his secret weapon… whatever it is? Contacts? Soldiers?”

“I think he’ll start making movements.” Armin paused. “Annie can’t help now.”

“She can’t help in the field. We use Pieck.” 

“Yeah.” Armin turned to Jean. “Jean. You are always gossiping with the 3rd Armoured right? I want you to start spreading a rumour.”

Reiner nodded. “That’s smart. We have to be careful about wording; we can’t reveal too much.” He glanced at Jean. “You’re perfect for that Jean. You tell the best stories.”

“Goddammit, why do I feel like you two speak your own secret language? What’s happening?”

They both stared at him, frowning.

“Fine. What rumour?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The switch is labeled "don't fuck with my friends and family."
> 
> The smartpass content where Ymir urges Mika and Historia to grope Reiner is a little weird, imo. I tried re-writing it with Sasha to be a bit more in character in my mind.
> 
> I imagine Armin saying to himself throughout the meeting scene, "This is exactly the shit, Reiner. This is exactly the reason why I did not tell you."


	4. The other side of war

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reiner becomes a private for a third time, this time in the South Marleyan Warrior Division.

\--Seven years prior, Mid East Front--

Reiner stood at attention in front of the Command Sergeant Major Abe Parval of the 1st Warrior Brigade.

“Sit down, please.” He said after a moment, sipping coffee and reading the dossier Reiner had handed him. He leaned his elbow on the heavy table between them and licked his thumb to turn over a page.

Reiner pulled over a wooden chair and sat. In the distance he could hear the low rumbleof heavy artillery. It sounded like thunder. He couldn’t identify any of the ordnance from the sound. Military technology had apparently advanced significantly since his early training.

The Sergeant Major looked up from flipping through the dossier to consider Reiner, rubbing his chin. He took another sip of his coffee. Then he sighed and shook his head. “Let me tell you how it works around here. Although I am the Command Sergeant Major, I function as the acting Colonel as the Colonel is Maleyan and decided he no longer found the war entertaining a month in. All he does is sign off on the orders I craft for him from the safety of his apartment in Vassille.” He flipped through the dossier pages. “What was your rank in the Warrior Unit, Braun?”

“I am the holder of the Armoured Titan, Major.”

“That’s not a rank.” Parval closed the dossier. “What was your pay-grade then?”

Reiner had to search his memory. “O-1.”

“Alright. Second Lieutenant Braun, why do you think this war started?”

“Because I failed the Paradis Mission.”

“That’s what they say. I think that’s a comforting lie.” Parval leaned forward on his desk. “I think this war started because it can’t be won by Titans. I’m sure Marley will win. And I’m sure that the war will end with some kind of half-staged set piece battle starring Titans while the Mid-East allies are already suing for peace behind the scenes. But this war can’t be won by Titans. And every war after this one won’t be won by Titans. There are many glaring flaws in the way they want me to implement your powers tactically. They mostly disappear if the intent is to get you killed of course. There’s quite a bit of information about how to phone in your death promptly.”

“They have enough of my spinal fluid saved up to reclaim the power remotely… as long as it’s done within a few hours of my death. And no other titans eat my body.”

“Which is very unlikely to happen here. You seem quite detached from all of this. We’re talking about your life.”

Reiner closed his eyes. “It’s not my life, it’s Marley’s.”

The Sergeant Major grunted softly. “Is that so?” He leaned back in his chair. “You are operable up to 2 hours, after which you have to exit your Titan form or you start to merge with it. A process that will result in your death. After extended use you enter a near-coma for several days.We could send you over to the enemy trenches to take out heavy artillery, but once you are vulnerable everything get’s complicated. You’ll have made yourself a primary target for artillery; even you can’t survive sustained shelling. We’ll either have to extract you or you retreat. Extracting you under those conditions seems dicey." He tapped the dossier. “If you retreat in your Titan form, you’re running back over everything behind you. Our advancing infantry and artillery and then our trench lines. If we get the infantry and artillery out of the way—or just decide to sacrifice them—you’ll still be collapsing our trenches. It’s not just the collateral damage, it’s also an issue of morale. I can only imagine how much the men would love to see you barrelling down on them in your tactical retreat. I suppose I can’t send you back and get the Cart Titan instead?”

Reiner shook his head. “I’m being posted here in lieu of execution. The Cart Titan isn’t.”

“Then they are trying to get you killed, Braun. I’m guessing it’s because executing you would be a humiliation. They’d be publicly recognizing they made a mistake in choosing you in the first place. I can just imagine the headlines. They’d rather throw you in here and force you to die in a way that they can frame as heroic. But it’s just stupid.” Parval threw the papers down. “I hate doing stupid things.” He rubbed his head. “Jove damn it.” 

A long silence stretched between them. Reiner treated trying to figure out what he should be feeling like a puzzle. He imagined a normal person in his place, called that normal person Samuel and decided that Samuel would likely feel horror, terror and despair. Reiner just felt disappointed it was still six hours before they’d be expected to go to bed.

“Well Lieutenant Braun, as of now I am your best friend. I’m demoting to private in the Infantry Brigade. And I’m assigning you to a minder. He can show you the ropes. Once you demonstrate to my satisfaction that you can function as an Infantryman in a platoon, you can get your rank back and we’ll revisit the issue of using your Titan powers tactically. If that’s even possible. Make note of any way to utilize them that occurs to you during that time. However if you use your powers without an explicit order from me and you manage to drag your carcass back out of no-man’s land, I will execute you myself. If you use your powers and end up running over my Infantry and trenches, I will execute you and find your parents and execute them.” Parval eyed him. “Unless you catch a direct shell hit or get your head sniped off, you should survive. You are going to write up your reports, you are going to give them to me and I’m going to re-write them to say whatever it is the idiots in charge want to hear.”

Reiner started. “Lie?”

“Yes we lie. Do you have a problem with that soldier? If you do, we can always implement their plans for you.”

“No.” Reiner hesitated. “I want to be useful to you, Major.” He still got something out of that, at least.

“I got it. Your life is Marley’s.” Parval stared at him. “I think I know just the man to assign you too.” He hit his microphone. “Send in Lieutenant Fuchs.”

Reiner watched Parval pick up a pen and start to write. Behind him someone slammed through the doors, Reiner looked back. A tall, dark-haired man stood behind him, arms folded over his chest, foot tapping impatiently. “You rang?”

Parval closed his eyes and shook his head. He glanced up. “Lieutenant, this is Second Lieutenant Reiner Braun from the Warrior Unit. He’s now a private in your platoon until he understands how we operate.”

The Lieutenant glared down at Reiner. “No fucking way. We don’t need dead weight.” 

“Lieutenant Brandeis Fuchs. No punishment you’ve gotten has penetrated your thick head. So I thought I would give you a puppy, instead. Perhaps having something to take care of will make you act like an adult. You won’t be getting your leave, you’ll be training him.”

“If you do that, I’ll complain directly to that sorry excuse for a Colonel.”

“Unless you are a vintage wine or an expensive prostitute you have no hope of catching his interest, Lieutenant. And if you do that I’ll get him to court marshal you for cowardice. That’s the one thing you’ve never done Fuchs. Run away. Is this where you’re going to start?” 

The Lieutenant glared at the Sergeant Major with open hatred.

Reiner kept his eyes forward. Other people’s drama held little interest to him.

“You are the best Platoon leader in the Brigade. Yet you insist on squandering all of that skill pursuing your war on the entire world and every fucking thing in it. But are you going to add ‘running away’ to your resume of suck?”

“No… Major.” The Lieutenant looked at the Sergeant Major like he was trying to set the man on fire with his mind.

The Sergeant Major waved towards the door. “Get going.”

The Lieutenant slammed his open palm down on Reiner’s shoulder hard enough to sting and rock him backwards a bit then grabbed a fistful of his uniform. “Get up. Let’s go, Private.”

Reiner was hauled bodily out of his chair and then shoved out of the Colonel’s office and through the Head Quarters corridors into the open air beyond.

Once outside the Lieutenant shoved him aside and kicked at one of the sandbags forming the front wall of Head Quarters. “Fuck! Jovus fucking take it!”

The Lieutenant swore for a good minute before pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lighting one. He puffed on it with intense concentration—ignoring Reiner—until he’d finished it and then ground it out in the dirt under his heal. Reiner watched impassively. To be honest, he didn’t care. He no longer felt a connection to anything that happened around him, it was all just noise. Pointless, endless noise. “Well this sucks.” The man concluded finally. “Reiner Braun, huh? You’re from Liberio right?”

“Yessir.”

The Lieutenant smacked his head. Reiner blinked in response. The man glared at him as if affronted at his lack of reaction. “Don’t call me ‘sir’. All you Liberio boys are ‘yes sir, no sir, spit or swallow, sir?’ It fucking pisses me off.” He started walking away from Head Quarters. Reiner followed silently. “I’m from Cantata. Canties don’t call anyone sir. Call me Brandeis. Since I have to do this, we’re doing it my way. I’m teaching you how to be a Cantie.” Brandeis grinned darkly. “I’m sure the Major will love that.”

Just past head quarters was a field; Reiner watched soldiers practicing baseball as they walked past. It was almost peaceful. Except for the acrid stink of ammonia and the nauseatingly sweet smell of rotting flesh.

Brandeis must have picked up on his expression. “The smell gets worse the closer you get to the frontline trenches. Once you’re there, it’ll be like you’re eating a bowl of it.” Brandeis pointed to a pile of sandbags in the shape of a building. “That’s the Relief hut. There’s no booze and no sex allowed so what it relieves is anyone’s guess.”

“Are there books?” Reiner asked.

Brandeis stopped. “You read?”

“Yes and I play chess as well.” The last game he’d played had been against… Reiner shut the thought down. Going there was the one place where his comfortable indifference ceased.

“What do you read?”

Reiner looked at Brandeis. The man seemed softer for some reason, less overtly hostile. “Anything.” Reiner replied.

“Do you have a preference?”

Reiner was silent for a long moment; the question required acknowledging himself as a person and his mental gears were rusty when it came to that.

Brandeis quirked an impatient eyebrow.

“Philosophy. Military history. Science Fiction.”

“And chess. All smart stuff that makes you think.” Brandeis nodded approval.

Reiner sighed, figuring he was being mocked. “I used to like comedies too.”

“Used to like them? What happened?”

“Just… stopped making sense.”

“How do jokes stop making sense?”

Reiner shrugged. “I don’t know. They just did.”

“How about poetry?” Brandeis looked not just softer, but slightly nervous at that question.

“I suppose. If it’s written down I’ll read it.”

For a moment Brandeis seemed almost shy, like he wanted to say something more but couldn’t get up the nerve. At the sight Reiner felt shock drop through him like a depth charge. _He looks like Bertholdt._ The resemblance wasn’t huge, but he had dark hair, green eyes, a similar facial structure except his jaw was more square and his nose straighter, and he was tall. More muscled than Bertholdt but still lankier than Reiner. For a brief, terrifying second, Reiner’s world was plunged into agonizing colour again. His fists clenched, he started to breathe too fast.

Brandeis turned around, looking irritated at Reiner’s sudden scrutiny.

The movement broke Reiner out of his trance; grey silt filtered back in, slowly and softly burying him.

“You’re the Armoured Titan, right? The biggest fuckup in the Warrior Unit’s history?”

Reiner nodded mutely.

“Heh.” He grinned to himself. “Are you taking the fall for someone else?”

“Huh?”

“It’s all theatre isn’t it?” Brandeis said. “That’s not real war. It’s a pageant. Any war you’d want to read about in the papers is a stage play. Real wars get forgotten about. So if you had to take the fall, I bet it was because someone else has to remain the star of the show.”

Reiner stared at the back of Brandeis’ head. Irritation was seeping up through the thick, grey layers of nothing inside him. The man’s logic was cracked.

“Do you know why there are no Warrior Candidates from Cantata? Because we are assholes. All of us. Even our grannies are assholes. We all refuse to submit. We refuse to stop thinking. You know why they don’t kill us outright? Because every so often we rebel, they gang press a bunch of us young men into military service as a punishment and the Canties outperform everyone. We carry the Marleyan Infantry. And they know it.”

“You’re all from Cantata?” Reiner asked. Most of the men he’d met in the 1st Warrior Brigade were his height or taller. It was unusual for Reiner to be around men who weren’t shorter than him, of course the Scouts had all been younger, but even when he came back from Paradis, he’d discovered that he was taller than Zeke and Porco too. Saying Porco had been displeased with that was an understatement. He’d spent the first week pressing on Reiner’s head as if he could make him grow backwards and punching him every time Reiner’d tried to push him off. North Marleyan Eldians tended to be closer to pure Eldian, and Eldians edged towards average height and wiry.

These men obviously had a lot of Southern Marleyan blood in them. South Marley had been more integrated prior to the end of the Titan wars and King Fritz’s exodus to Paradis with the full-blooded Eldians. Likely many of the “Eldians” in Cantata only had a single great-grandparent who was Eldian.

The Southern Marleyans had resisted the federal laws on segregation to the point of civil war. Even almost a century later resentment still simmered under the surface. Not to rebuild the Eldian Empire, but to reunite the families broken apart by North Marley’s prohibitions. Cantata was a hotbed of that resentment.

North Marley couldn’t use its typical heavy handed approach because if they did steamroll over Cantata, it was likely it would cause the civil war to erupt again as their Marleyan family members across the wall would go ballistic.

Cantata had carved out a strange political bubble for itself.

“That’s the first question you’ve asked.” Brandeis grinned at him. “And yes. All of us.”

“Were you drafted?” Reiner asked.

“No, I’m a volunteer. I wanted adventure. And a legitimate excuse to kill people.” Brandeis chuckled evilly.

Reiner felt his lip curl in disgust. “Excuse to kill people.”

Brandeis shrugged. “It’s such a popular solution to our problems. I wanted to experience the allure for myself.” He nodded at another sand bag building. This one smaller than the first. It was surrounded by a grove of trees. “That’s the officers relief hut.”

A large, strawberry blond man stood out front, leaning on the sandbags piled up beside the door. He was reading a paper and sipping from a tin can with a handle. When they approached he looked like he recognized Brandeis, then his eyes slid over to Reiner and he grinned, pursing his lips and wolf-whistling.

Brandeis stopped short, his hand on the doorknob. He stepped back, caught the man’s lapels and shoved him against the wall of the Relief hut. “Augustus, I’m going to punch your lips out the back of your skull for that.”

“Watch the beverage, ignoramus!” Augustus lifted his mug out of harm’s way. “Why would I whistle at _you_ , you disgusting warthog?”

Brandeis stopped, without releasing Augustus he turned to look at Reiner. His brow drew. “Goddammit, I was so annoyed I didn’t even notice.” He let go of Augustus and stalked over to Reiner, grabbing him by the jaw and tilting his head back and forth, examining him. Reiner submitted passively. “I didn’t realize they made men this beautiful. Look at those eyes, fucking striking they are.” Brandeis heaved out a breath. “Great. I look forward to ending all the fights you’re going to start among these pigs. I can feel another field punishment coming on.”

Augustus laughed. “Kid you are hanging out with a real discipline case. The Warrior Brigade’s biggest fuckup. And that’s saying something for a Cantie. He and his squad wasted a commanding officer.”

“They couldn’t prove it!” Brandeis retorted, folding his arms over his chest. Brandis leaned closer to Reiner. “The fucking idiot deserved it, though.”

“So what is this?” Augustus flicked his fingers between them. “You found yourself some rough trade, Brandy?”

Brandeis growled. “Jove damn it.” Reiner thought he was about to object to the nick-name. Instead, Brandeis blew out a breath. “I wish. No. Our acting Colonel assigned me to take care of him. Looks like I’m not going on leave with you. Instead I have to show him around, for fucks sake.”

Augustus stared at Reiner until Reiner almost felt uncomfortable. Mostly he felt apathetic.“I’ll do it.” Augustus said.

Brandeis’ eyes narrowed. “Show him how it works here, August. Not show him a good time.”

Augustus draped his arm over Reiner’s shoulder, leaning close. “What do you say kid. Let’s have some fun?”

Reiner sighed. He looked at August and didn’t hide his profound disinterest. “Do I have to do anything?”

Augustus recoiled. “By Jovus.”

Brandeis laughed. “That’s some weapons grade contempt right there.”

“I was just trying to be welcoming.” Augustus whimpered, clutching at his chest. “Did he have to leave a bloody boot print where my heart once was?”

“This is Augustus Gais, First Lieutenant in the Southers, otherwise known as Horse-fiddler.”

Augustus rolled his eyes. He held out his hand. “You can call me August. I used to be a stable hand. For some reason, that convinced Brandy I fuck horses.”

Reiner took it, shaking it. Augustus had an open, grinning quality to him.

A shorter, towheaded man emerged from the Officer’s Relief Hut. He stiffened when he saw Brandeis, his eyes narrowing.

Brandeis hugged his shoulders, pulling him close. “And this is Gottfried Zimmer. He’s a First Lieutenant in the 3rd Armoured.”

Gottfried shoved him away. “Get off me you baboon.”

“He likes me.” Brandeis grinned. “He just doesn’t want to admit it.”

Gottfried closed his eyes and sighed, shaking his head. Despite his apparent disgust, he walked over and leaned up against the Hut beside Augustus, lighting a cigarette and motioning for the paper.

“Gottfried, August this is…”

Reiner’s shoulder’s slumped. He braced himself for the inevitable looks of pity and revulsion; he was currently the most notorious man in all of Marley. His only saving grace was that very few people knew what he looked like as an adult.

“Angel.” Brandeis concluded.

“Doesn’t he have a real name?” Gottfried snapped.

“He’s my puppy, I get to name him. He’s Angel until he makes himself useful.”

Augustus’s laugh was booming. “Brandy, you are a piece of work. Alright then. Welcome to Southland 42nd regiment, Angel.”

“Thank you for the welcome, sir.”

“I thought I told you.” Brandeis glared at him. “Canties don’t call anyone sir. You need to learn the Cantie way if you’re going to be in the Southers. Alright? You never call anyone sir. You call all your superior officers by their first names. And when you see a rum ration, you steal it. When you see an unattended rifle, you steal it. When you see a bread roll, you steal it. False teeth? Steal them. The 3rd Armour’s girlfriends? Steal em.”

“Fuck you Brandy.” Gottfried said without looking up from the paper.

“Not unless you pay up for the last time, Gottfried. You see a man taking a shit, what do you do?”

Reiner’s lips quirked. “Steal it—“

“No!” Brandeis smacked his head. “You leave him alone, that’s sacred. Even if he’s an enemy. Let’s see if you’ve retained any of this. What’s the Cantie way?”

“Steal everything and disrespect your superiors.” Reiner answered.

“Excellent. But also brawling. Pointless, endless brawling.”

“And sodomy.” August quipped.

“Most importantly to be a Cantie, you gotta be smart.” Brandeis propped his foot up on the sandbags. “There’s a trick to being smart. You never, ever do exactly what you’re told. You do the right way, not their way. Don’t listen to anyone with brass on their chest. Just pretend to listen. You can listen to the Major, though. He’s on the level.” The last he said grudgingly.

“You never worry about being punished?”

“They’d have to chain a couple thousand infantry to posts. And who’s going to do it? The army? Oh, look at that. We are the army.” Brandeis laughed. “This is the freest you’re ever going to get because no one else wants to go where we go. And because no one wants to go there, we set the rules. Welcome to the edge of the knife.”

August sat beside Gottfried on a stack of sandbags. “We get thrown into the worst of it. And we keep surviving. We keep surviving because we don’t listen to idiots.”

“I’ll give you a tip, Angel.” Brandeis sat down beside August. Reiner stayed standing, watching them with mild interest. “You know the key to trench warfare?”

Reiner shook his head.

“Don’t end up in a trench. The Southers’ speciality is taking hills, we bunker down and we turn a hill into a slaughter house. When we get to do that… that’s the best.” Brandeis closed his eyes, sighing. He glanced at the sky: it was edging towards sundown. “I’m going to go rustle up some booze before Stand up. Keep the kid company, August. Don’t… Hmm…” Brandeis looked at Reiner. “Eh. You can handle August. You have one hell of a death glare, Angel. I’m sure there’s a story behind it.”

Brandeis turned on his heel and strode off across the baseball field. One of the balls from a practice game rolled into his path and the soldiers shouted at him to throw it back. Brandeis picked it up, tossed it up and down a couple times, and then belted it into the grove of palms beyond the field. The soldiers started swearing, throwing down their gloves and bats and making obscene gestures at him as they ran to retrieve it.

Reiner blinked. “Why make the effort to be so mean-spirited?“

“That’s Brandy, for you. He’s a character.” August sat down on the sandbags beside Gottfried. “But he knows his shit. Listen to him. Duck when he ducks. Run when he runs. It’ll keep you alive. The man turns into some kind of genius in the battlefield. His platoons have fewer casualties and more kills than anyone else’s. He honestly should be a Captain. But he just can’t… reign it in. Not even enough to pass as the average insubordinate Cantie.”

Reiner sat down on the row of sandbags with August. He didn’t have anything better to do so he watched the soldiers come back with the baseball Brandeis had thrown and then resume their game.

“Where’d you come from?” Gottfried asked after awhile.

“Another Warrior Division.” Reiner said. “Northern.”

“Liberio, huh? Most of you Northerners come from there.”

Reiner nodded.

“It’s not fun here. It’s no place for a kid.” He took a long look at Reiner. “You’ve fought?”

“Yes. Not like this. So I have to learn.” Reiner replied. “Can’t talk about it, though.”

Gottfried nodded back. “I see.”

They lapsed into silence. Apparently Brandeis did most of the talking; Augustus only following his lead. But the two men seemed comfortable with each other without talking. The sun kissed the horizon, turning the sky bloody. By the time the sun was below the horizon and the sky had bruised to purple Brandeis came back with a metal flask, a bottle and a bag. He took a pull and handed the flask to August. Gottfried watched them both in silence.

After he was done with it August offered the flask to Reiner. He took it. It burnt and that honestly felt good, the booze would deepen his indifference. He knew from experience, now. He handed it back to Brandeis, who took another swallow.

Gottfried folded the newspaper and put it under his arm. “Is he even old enough to drink?” 

Brandeis handed Reiner the flask again. Reiner took another deep gulp. “If he’s old enough to kill, he’s old enough to drink.”

“How do you know he’s killed?”

Brandeis shrugged. “I just do.”

—

At dusk an alert had echoed over the reserve trench from the loudspeakers: **Stand up**.

August, Brandeis and Gottfried had pulled Reiner behind the Officer's Relief Hut, "This is when the shelling gets its worst." Gottfried had explained. "If you want you can go into the Hut. But you can't take the booze."

Reiner'd shrugged and opted to remain with them. 

Reiner managed to work up a good drunk before his Titan powers kicked in and started to burn it off. That was one of the worst parts of being a Titan shifter. Nothing worked to numb him for very long.

When the stand down order was issued, the four of them started heading to the officer’s barracks. August was piss drunk. Gottfried hadn’t drunk at all—Reiner’d guessed he was a pious Jovian from the oak tree pendant he wore; which surprised him since he hadn’t seemed to object to either August's or Brandeis' obscene banter. And Brandeis had been surprisingly temperate in his drinking; he was still mostly sober.

Drunk, August took particular delight in draping himself over Reiner and slur-singing sea shanties into his ear.

Gottfried slapped August on the head. “August stop, you’re embarrassing him.”

“I don’t care.” Reiner said. “The only thing that matters to me is being useful.”

Gottfried looked at Reiner. “You packed away as much as him, how are you still standing? Do they feed that much hard liquor to child soldiers where-ever you’re from?” There was a faint hint of anger in Gottfried’s voice. He opened the door to the Barracks; yet another boxy building with sandbags heaped over every side and the roof.

“Don’t pry.” Brandeis said. “Come on, you’re with me, Angel.”

The air was cool; and it smelled more of dirt than rot, which Reiner was thankful for. They walked down a small stair into a plank lined hallway studded with doors. Brandeis moved to one of the doors in the back, opening it and ushering Reiner inside.

The feel was distinctly subterranean which unsettled Reiner. Enclosed spaces had the potential to stop him from using his Titan powers so he’d learned to dislike them. There were two bunks, two cabinets and two writing desks.

“Here.” Brandeis shoved a bag into Reiner’s hands. “I swiped them for you from the new arrivals. Keep them hidden or you’ll have to stack sandbags chained to a post.”

Reiner opened the bag. There were four books, one new science fiction anthology, two military history and one book on the meditations of Larilliaus; an ancient Marleyan Consul. “Thank you.” He said, baffled.

Brandeis sat on the side of his bed, his elbows resting on his knees and looked intently at Reiner. “What the hell happened to you?”

Reiner shrugged. “Huh?”

“You’ve been staring straight through everyone like they’re invisible all day. You even managed to unnerve August.” Brandeis turned to lie down on his bed, hands behind his neck, elbows in the air. “It’s none of my business but I’m curious.”

“In the process of trying to fulfill the Paradise mission. I lost my… partner. I had to leave behind another partner. I killed friends to finish my mission. And I still failed.” His voice was monotone. Everything that had happened felt distant, like he was watching someone else’s memories. He was, really. For a few years he got to borrow another boy’s life.

“Your ‘partner?’” The older man looked pensive for a moment. “Your friend?”

Reiner nodded. “We were good friends.”

“Good friends.” Brandeis’ eyes focused on something only he could see. “Yeah that’s rough.” He blinked back to the present. “So you found out the people behind the walls were just people?”

Reiner stared at Brandeis. _How the hell…?_ He’d been deliberately vague.

Brandeis offered a sleazy grin. “Did you fuck any of them?”

Reiner choked. He knew he was blushing. “No!”

“Thank Jovus.” Brandeis blew out a breath. “You’ve finally reacted like a normal kid. You were starting to worry me. Two grown men acting like buffoons and you didn’t even blink. I thought you might actually be a 17 year old Angel of Death.” He grinned at Reiner. “So you’re a virgin.”

Reiner didn’t answer. He just looked sullenly at his feet.

“That’s okay, we’ll fix that for you next time we’re on leave. Get you a girl.” Brandeis looked at him appraisingly. “That won’t be hard. Actually we’ll get you Gottfried’s girlfriend. Do you like older women? Aged beef is the best to cut your teeth on… and she deserves better than—”

“There was someone I liked. I wanted to marry her.”

Brandeis scoffed. “Why would you do that?”

Reiner pulled his legs to his chest, he rested his forehead on his knees. “Because she was kind to me.”

“Hey…kid. It’s okay.” He heard Brandeis get up. His bed frame creaked as the older man sat down beside him, he felt Brandeis slip his hand around Reiner’s back. Reiner let him; the yawning emptiness inside him made him feel weak. Brandeis pulled Reiner’s head to rest against his shoulder. Reiner closed his eyes. Brandeis kindness surprised him; but he didn’t have the strength left to reject it. No one had touched him out of kindness since he’d come back from Paradis. 

“When I was 17 I was working as a dock hand and chasing tail at the fair on weekends. I was an oblivious, horny little shit. Still living with mom and pop. I had a lot of girls who were nice to me. I never thought to marry any one of them.” Brandeis hesitated. “What the hell have you been doing at 17?”

After a moment he noticed that Brandeis’ shoulder was wet and he realized he’d been crying silently. He didn’t know for how long. “You didn’t tell them who I was.”

“Because you didn’t want me too.”

“I thought you said Canties were assholes.”

“I’m nice when I think someone deserves it. That makes it mean something.” Brandeis replied. “Why’d you become a Warrior Candidate?”

“I wanted to be a hero and save the world.” Reiner chuckled ruefully. “I was a stupid kid.”

Brandeis snorted. “What did the world ever do for you?”

Reiner’s brow drew. “I never thought about that.”

“Consider this war. I’ve killed 37 men. That I know of. You separate men out into two groups, get someone to fire the first shot, and then you’re off to the races. At some point the politicians will decide the war is too expensive, or not sufficiently entertaining and stop it and call for a count. The side that’ll win is the side that built the biggest pile of corpses.

“I’m not stupid. I know the men I killed were just normal men, they had families, mothers, fathers, wives and kids maybe. I know they’re just like us. I know they died like I’ll die, shitting myself and screaming. I’m sure there’s some Haziz over on the other side of no-man’s land who’s saying exactly what I’m saying to some slack-jawed mid-east private. And I don’t give a fuck about Marley. But I still want to shoot them.” Brandeis’ eyes took on the same distant look. “Because they killed my friends. They want to shoot us because we killed their friends. That’s it. Why is the world that absurd? You figure that out and you end war, Angel.”

Brandeis rubbed Reiner’s shoulder and stood up. “Go to bed, kid. Tomorrow I’m going to see if you can shoot a rifle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Throughout most of the story we see it from Eren or the 104 scouts point of view. Reiner appears either to be a big brother figure or a frightening enemy. Reiner almost always looks way older than he actually is. But there are moments, particularly in the Utgard Castle arc and after where you can see that he's actually just a 17-year old kid, when he's frightened, confused, horny or screaming his head off out of frustration.
> 
> I find this is an under appreciated element to the story. These are just kids forced to do horrible things that traumatize them. Reiner most of all. 
> 
> A lot of people think Reiner is broken, however I'm actually more surprised at how functional he is considering all he's been through and how little he has to support himself with. I think that needs an explanation so I figured I'd give Reiner some time with adults who he could respect (since they're soldiers) but also would be horrified at what he was put through because he's just a kid. 
> 
> Thus the Cantie Southers: Augustus, Brandeis and Gottfried. 
> 
> I based the behaviour of Canties on the famously insubordinate Canadian soldiers during World War One. Little known fact: Canadians make aggressive soldiers. Juno Beach was one of the difficult landing areas during D-Day, yet the Canadian soldiers not only managed to take the Beach, they advanced further than any other invasion force. :D 
> 
> Finally there's no way that separating Eldians and Marleyans was as seemingly clean and easy as it's made out to be. Once populations start inter-marrying, it becomes difficult to pull them apart. There is a large number of mixed-race characters and relationships featured in AoT--Xavier's, Annie, Reiner, Nicollo/Sasha--and that's under threat of death if it's found out for some of them! Sorta get the feeling both sides had trouble keeping their hands off of each other. 
> 
> This forced segregation can't have been universally popular, thus Cantata (keeping with the Italian naming scheme) in Southern Marley: An Eldian ghetto paired with a Marleyan city, with a distinctly different character from Liberio.


	5. Another man's heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What ever happened to Eren?

The Warrior Infantryman—Eberhardt—in front of Hitch held up his fist. Hitch pulled on her horse’s reins, bringing it to a stop. Hitch didn’t say a word. She slowly moved her hand to her side arm, flicking the holster open, letting her fingers rest on the grip.

They’d taken a thin, unmarked deer trail to the rondevous shack deep in the woods beside the rubble of Wall Sheena. Hitch peered through the leaves at the plank building in the small clearing ahead, it’s roof was covered in moss, some of the planks were black with rot. They had deliberately cultivated an air of neglect and abandonment.

Eberhardt waved his squad forward; six men moved past Hitch on the trail as quietly as they could in the dense underbrush.

She watched the Infantrymen enter the clearing, rifles raised, and she realized what had alerted Eberhardt. Blood. It was faint, but noticeable. Maybe a hunter had used the shack or the clearing to field dress a deer, but the Infantry didn’t take chances.

Hitch had rarely interacted with any of the Marleyan prisoners of war during the four years after the Island had reclaimed Shinganshina, the site of the first Marleyan massacre. Like most people in the central cities, Hitch had felt an unfocused anger and hatred towards their attackers. They weren’t people, they were monsters that had plunged a fourth of their population into hell.

But, on the other hand, she hadn’t supported the Yeagerists either and she was glad of it. It’d been hard to stay neutral; She’d been gang-pressed more than once into temporary service with one faction or another. But all parties still had need of the Military Police to maintain order so eventually her life would return to something resembling normal. Although normal kept getting more and more destructive and chaotic as the Yeagerist factions fought, raping and murdering through the Paradis population. They had brazenly killed some of her friends in the MPs and turned the admittedly corrupt, lazy police service into a sheer hell of paranoia, backstabbing and summary executions. A place where you never knew what opinion or real or imagined slight would put your head on the chopping block. The moment she sure she was about to be killed by the madness—she’d attracted the attention of what she'd find out later was a particularly nasty piece of work and fallen in with a bad crowd—she’d been contacted by the head of the Tybur’s network of spies.

They’d helped her fake her own death to throw the Yeagerists and the Yeagerist friendly MPs off her trail. And they’d gotten her out of Stohess, getting her to safety with the emerging Alliance.

Once she was out, she’d offered to function as their contact point with the Alliance, getting other people free. She’d become possessed with that and trying to pull out enough intel to keep her little haven from being crushed. 

Since then she’d been assigned a Warrior Infantry squad. Spending much of her time protected by their quiet watchfulness and shamelessly flirting with Eberhardt—although he only ever responded with stoney professionalism, she had managed to get some of his squad laughing—she decided Marleyans were not so bad, or at least not universally so. It might have been selfish and myopic, but Hitch had come to hate the Yeagerists more than anyone. Deciding genocide was an answer was bad enough; but then they had to kill everyone who disagreed or disagreed with killing people who disagreed. Hitch was no longer sure anyone would survive the madness that had sparked in people’s minds. She’d watched close friends turn on each other over it to the point of murder and worse.

The Squad fanned out through the clearing, two of the six remaining by her side, watching the underbrush encircling the clearing.

Eberhardt’s second breeched the door. The shack was tiny: it only took minutes for Eberhardt to call the all clear.

She dismounted and walked into the clearing with her horse. The horse shied a bit as they moved to the shack.

“There’s a body. Whoever it is hasn’t been dead long.” Eberhardt said. He scanned the tree-line. “The killer could be watching us. I didn’t see any boot prints so I have no idea where he is. Ground’s hard and I’m not a good tracker.” He leaned closer to her. “You should go back, ma’am. We can’t ensure your protection.”

“No, I need to gather evidence.” Hitch frowned and took out a pocket watch to check the time. It was half past four. She pretended it was stopped and wound it. It was their code to contact the second squad and inform them to go straight back to Alliance Town from the real drop-off point as fast as possible. “We need to construct a travois for the body.”

She turned back to her horse and pulled her forensics kit from her saddlebag. Just as she did so she caught a flash of light in the trees above the clearing.

Reflexively she grabbed Eberhardt’s coat and threw herself and him to the ground. A bullet sang past her, kicking up a spatter of dirt and grit into her face. “Three o’clock. Flash of light.” She gasped at Eberhardt.

He rolled up to a crouch, his rifle braced against his shoulder as he fired into the canopy, and pulled the bolt back, chambering another round. “Get behind me.”

Hitch crawled, arm over arm behind Eberhardt as the Infantry followed his lead. She curled into a ball, her hands over her ears.

She stayed huddled like that until the volley stopped. She heard Infantry move into the bush, then nothing. Finally, “we got him!” and she was able to let out the breath she’d been holding.

Eberhardt stood and helped her up, while two of his squad dragged a body into the clearing by an arm. It had a Military Police uniform on and Hitch felt cold shock drip down her spine. “Why?”

“Get your work done.” Eberhardt pushed her towards the shack. “Quickly, ma’am. We need to be out of here.”

Hitch took a deep breath, swallowed her fear and confusion and entered the shack. The dead body was a man, mid thirties, wiry. Dark hair. She took out the camera and took a series of shots of the body and the inside of the shack, cranking it over between each one. Her fingers shook as she bagged his feet and hands in linen bags to preserve evidence, following the procedure Annie and Peick had taught her. She didn’t dare gather anything more time consuming from the scene. When she was done she called Eberhardt and he helped her heave the man onto a hastily constructed travois. The other dead body they threw over her horse. She didn’t recognize him but she felt her stomach clench at the sight of a fellow MP dead.

Eberhardt’s steadying hand was heavy on her shoulder as he urged her back towards the game trail, back the way they came. “We’re at war now.” He said, softly.

—

Jean sat at a table on the Officer’s Barracks Veranda, drinking coffee and reading the daily plate that a enterprising young newsman had started in Alliance Town. The biggest story of the day was, of course, Reiner’s performance during the morning Council. Jean had to hand it to the newsman, he was quick. Most of the sentiment seemed positive and if not positive, more confused than negative. Many people were speculating on just why Reiner was so devoted to the Queen.

Jean heard someone near; he looked up and saw Gottfried. “The cafe girls have a fresh pot out.” He said, lifting his mug.

“I got a cup, sir. I mean Jean.” Gottfried lifted his own tin mug and sat down, he glanced at the daily plate. “Are you done with that?”

“Have fun.” Jean passed it over.

Gottfried settled back, sipping his coffee and reading the daily plate. “I heard about this. Reiner went ape at the meeting.”

Jean swirled the coffee in his mug. He considered spiking it with a shot of the brandy he’d pilfered from the meeting room. “Yes. It was exactly as crazy as described.”

“Huh. He always kept his head down around us.”

“Well sometimes a man needs to flip a table.” Jean pulled out his flask and poured a dollop of booze into his coffee.

“What got him so riled up?”

“Uhm.” Jean hummed knowingly and took a gulp from his mug. “When he was undercover in Paradis, we were in the same military cadet class as the Queen.”

Gottfried digested this. “So he knew her before.”

“She was living under a different name at the time. You know, royals.” Jean flicked his hand dismissively.

Gottfried nodded as if he didn’t know but he accepted it was possible. “He must have liked her.”

“Oh he did.” Jean winked. He stood, stretching out his back. He picked up his stack of papers. “I better get going. Capozzi’s given me some homework. Due yesterday.”

Gottfried snorted. “Good luck with that.”

“Thanks!” Jean stepped towards the Barracks door. Before it had closed behind him, he surreptitiously glanced back at Gottfried. The man looked like he was deep in thought. Jean smiled like a fox; first stage rumour deployed.

He chuckled under his breath and clapped his hands together, walking through the Barracks foyer, past the girls behind the cafe counter who stared after him with baffled expressions. He waved at them and swaggered to the stairs, taking them three by three to his floor.

Once at his room, he opened his door and stepped inside, slapping his papers down on his desk, turning on his lamp and sitting down.

Months into the Alliance Town Project Capozzi had decided he needed to train a replacement and had initiated a program of study in Engineering. Along with Reiner and Armin, Jean’d been one of the few able to grasp the mathematics Capozzi and his chief engineers taught. In fact this was one area that Jean excelled at even beyond Reiner and Armin; he had an intuitive grasp both of the puzzle like nature of discrete mathematics and the spatial mechanics of trigonometry. In the two and a half years of study, he’d gotten at least four grunts of approval from Capozzi while everyone else who’d taken on the studies had been eventually booted from the Engineer Commandant’s demanding tutelage. Reiner and Armin could have continued if they hadn’t been swept up into politics—and Armin becoming a father—but they’d only gotten one grunt apiece during their time studying. Jean held this fact very close to his heart. Occasionally he brought it out and cuddled it and called it a good boy.

Jean flipped to the page he’d left off on. He opened a drawer and pulled out the very clever Marleyan adding machine. Within minutes he’d lost himself in the click-click-click of the machine and the clean simplicity of the mathematics.

He didn’t even hear his room door open and then close; bare feet slipping across his room’s hardwood floor. It wasn’t until he smelled cherrywood and rose that he realized. He turned around.

Hitch sat on his bed. She’d already slipped out of her uniform jacket and draped it over the chair Jean used as a bedside table, and had started unbuttoning her blouse, looking vaguely out of it and teary.

Jean turned all the way around, unable to continue to focus on his work with her getting naked behind him. She stripped off her blouse and laid it over the chair.

He glanced between her sniffling frown and her plump breasts, torn between wanting to brush her tears away and shove his face in her cleavage. “Um, Hitch…”

“Oh!” She stopped suddenly. “I’m getting undressed.” She glared at him. “What are you doing?”

“What am _I_ doing?” His brow drew, “Trigonometry. You came into my room and started to…” He waved vaguely at her half nakedness.

She pressed her hand to her mouth. “I shouldn’t be angry at you.”

“No, you shouldn’t.” Jean agreed.

She sighed and laid down on his bed. “Getting undressed in your room has become a reflex? My God.” Despite her exasperation, she started to pull her breeches off. Once she was down to her panties and bra—a matching set of frilly lavender intimates, very flattering to her sumptuous figure—she crawled under the covers and hid her head under Jean’s pillow, her back to him.

“What are you doing Hitch?”

“Your bed smells like you.” She sobbed.

Jean pushed away from his desk; there was no way he was going to be getting more work done with her almost naked in his bed. “Do you want company?”

“No.” Hitch sniffled. “Maybe.” Finally she turned towards him and threw the covers open. “Yes! Get in here!”

Jean turned around to lock his door and started to pull off his uniform, hanging his jacket, trousers and over shirt in his closet. Hitch blushed as soon as he was down to his singlet and underwear; he couldn’t help responding to her with obvious force. Jean slipped in beside her and immediately she cuddled up to his side, pushed her head into his chest, her fists balled by her ears.

He slipped his arm around her chest, rubbed her shoulders and fought the urge to take it further. “What’s wrong?”

“I just… I’ll tell you after. I just need to feel safe.” Hitch replied.

Jean hummed at that. “After?” He lifted her chin, kissing her. She opened her mouth, pressing her tongue into his hungrily and yanking him close like she wanted to inhale him. He felt her shivering against him.

Shit. He thought. She’s really scared. Without breaking the kiss, he turned her over until he was above her, propping himself up on his elbows, covering her with his body. She grabbed his chest, pressing her head into his neck. He dropped down a bit so she could feel his weight on her and she started to relax underneath him.

He felt her reach down to pull off her panties and pull him out of his underwear and excitement coursed through him. It was still novel to have a lover, although he felt guilty. He’d held a torch for Mikasa for so long it almost felt like betraying her, or himself… but she wasn’t his, even with Eren gone. He worried his lingering feelings for Mikasa were a betrayal of Hitch, too.

Hitch getting spooked and clinging to him for security satisfied something deep within him. She was a capable soldier and an important ally, but she still somehow made him feel brave and tough and manly. As an MP, Hitch had been well fed, unlike the scouts, and although she was strong, she was softer, rounder and more womanly than the girls he’d trained with. There was something deliciously sensual about her because of that, like she was a fine liqueur or a decadent desert. Her habit of wearing lingerie that showcased her figure only reinforced it, she always had something fascinating under her uniform, something that would be wickedly inappropriate on a battlefield. And Jean loved luxuries and delighted in indulging himself in them. 

Mikasa, responded to him as a reliable comrade-in-arms, only. That was fine. He could live with it. But it was a wall between them and anything more. Not for the first time he wondered if some of Eren’s destructive insecurity came from a desire to be a man for her. And how the hell do you do that with a woman who is a force of nature? She needed a God.

Then Hitch lifted her hips, joining them together, and he decided thinking was too much trouble.

They both fed off of each other’s excitement; before long Jean was moaning, Hitch was nearly screaming, and Jean had to brace his hand against the wall to stop the headboard from banging against it and making even more of an obscene ruckus. Eventually he just plain forgot as he lost himself in her, making almost as much noise as she did as they both fell into a decidedly tasty oblivion.

As they panted in the aftermath—Hitch flushed and squirmy, Jean prodding the sore spot where she’d bit his neck rather hard—someone pounded on their shared wall. “Would you two shut up!”

“Bit late now, huh?” Jean said.

Hitch bit her lip, grinning up at him. He snickered, burying his head in her shoulder. “We’re done!” He called out.

He held the sides of her face in his hands and kissed her again. “Do you feel better?”

She nodded vigorously, smiling. “Yes.” Then her eyes opened wide. “Oh shit! My debriefing!”

“You mean you came here before handing in your report?”

Hitch blushed. “I…”

“I don’t care.” Jean beamed, lacing his fingers behind his head. “It’s cute how much you want me. You should, really. You have good taste.”

“Oh for God’s sake.” She smacked his arm, then jumped out of bed, tripped on her own boots and had to catch herself on his chair to stop her from falling forward.

He half got up to help her, then stood up anyway, grabbing her from behind, one arm around her waist, the other catching her breast, teasing it. He pulled her close, nuzzling her neck.

“No.” She tried to grab at her clothes; he wouldn’t let her go so she just ended up paddling futilely in their direction. “I have to go!”

“What are they going to do, fire you?” He let his hand trail down her stomach.

Her arms fell limp. “Okay just five more minutes.”

—

“We’ll leave as soon as the equipment and men are ready for travel.” Reiner sat on the front edge of his desk in his office in Alliance Town’s Great Hall. Brandeis and Augustus stood at ease before him. It still was unsettling to see Brandeis willingly follow any sort of military discipline. “This needs to be fixed immediately.”

August nodded, then he grinned. “Is she hot?”

Reiner frowned. “What does it matter to you? It’s not like you’re getting a piece of my wife.”

“How about both of you at once? That doesn’t qualify as adultery, does it?”

“I think it still does.” 

“Nah. It’s the spirit of the law that’s important, not the letter.”

“August.” Reiner flicked his fore and index fingers at the door. “Go. Time’s wasting.”

August chuckled and saluted, trotting out the door.

Brandeis started to follow then hesitated, turning back to face Reiner. “What was that about earlier?”

“The scene?”

“Yeah. Is this for real?”

“Hofferson still thinking in terms of us being his enemy. I doubt it’s just him.” Reiner said. 

“We never fought the Eldians on Paradise. All the Canties were posted to the Mid-East.”

“They don’t understand that. We’re all just Marleyan. So I had to give him and the rest of them something to think about. A demonstration of my dedication to our shared future.”

“Was it all an act then?”

Reiner hesitated, he folded his arms over his chest, resettling himself on the desk. “I don’t know. I don’t like the way she’s being treated, honestly. And it was aggravating me that Hofferson expected me to stud her, but not act like her husband. Neither of us are livestock.”

Brandeis watched him. Then he smiled. “Huh. Well I’ll be. Who is this girl?”

“Do you remember when I said I wanted to marry a girl from Paradis?”

“Yeah.”

“This was the one.” Reiner said.

Brandeis whistled. “You were after the queen? As a Lieutenant? That’s some balls.”

“I didn’t know who she was at the time. Keep this to yourself. Get going.”

“Of course.” Brandeis grinned at him wickedly. “Yessir.”

Reiner winced. “By Jove, you saying sir is creepy.”

In lieu of a salute, Brandeis bowed elaborately. “My liege, then.” As he straightened with a broad grin, Mikasa appeared behind him in the doorway. She glanced between Brandeis and Reiner, then scooted inside, unfazed by Brandeis’ antics. She’d worked with him—them—for almost three years. “Captain Ackerman.” Reiner acknowledged.

“Duovir.” She stood at attention, giving him a scout salute.

Brandeis nodded at her as he exited. Reiner watched him hesitate at the doorway, his gaze flicking between Mikasa and Reiner. A look of puzzlement crossed his features before he walked off.

Mikasa waited until the click of his boots faded and then she stepped back, pressing the door closed behind her and locked it.

She was breathing hard: something was bothering her. Reiner could guess what. His heart leapt into his throat as his stomach sank and whose emotions those were was anyone’s guess. 

“What happens now?” She asked.

“I don’t know. I didn’t even get to explaining…” He waved between them. “This. There was already so much weirdness.” Reiner rubbed his eyes. “She said ‘if you have a girlfriend, I don’t want you to leave her.’ But are we even friends, Mikasa?”

She stared at him with her inscrutable eyes.

Reiner blew out a breath. “Forget I said that. That wasn’t fair. That’s not what this is about.”

Without preamble she drew his curtains.

“Now?” Reiner’s voice cracked.

Mikasa looked back at him, shrugging out of her jacket. “There’s something wrong.”

Reiner hesitated. His office was more of a risk than he liked to take, usually he’d use dropping by to discuss Paths research with Levi as cover. Both Mikasa and Levi lived in the apartments above Levi’s tea shop. Levi was the only other person who knew about them.

But he’d arranged for his office to be isolated, sharing as few walls as possible with occupied rooms. Armin would be debriefing Hitch and her Infantry squad, and after that he’d likely be conferencing with Annie and Pieck. It was late in the day, the offices closed, so it was unlikely they’d be interrupted.

Mikasa laid her jacket on the back of one of his guest chairs. She looked at him, her fingers plucking at the buttons of her uniform shirt. She hesitated.

He shook his head at her but pulled his great coat off anyway. She returned to undressing.

He started to pull off his shirt listlessly, not watching her undress. Mikasa did not want him. This he knew well. What Mikasa wanted was a gateway to Paths and from there to what remained of Eren. He didn’t blame her, not at all. He understood the stakes.

By the time she was naked, he’d sat on the ground, pulling off his boots and socks, stripping off his fatigues.

She walked over to him: She was a beautiful woman, muscular, imposing but sensual. Before he would at least let himself admire her, now he looked down, feeling confused and guilty. _Historia._

She knelt in his lap and he clenched his fists against the urge to touch her. He knew from experience that she did not like being touched much at all, at least not by him, and it was best to let her take the lead. After years of practice, she was astonishingly expert.

If anything defined ‘fucking in the line of duty’ it was what they were doing. They shared the same grim determination to get each other off as quickly and efficiently as possible while minimizing any real intimacy. Or at least Mikasa did. Reiner was finding it harder and harder to maintain her level of detachment. Actually, if he was honest, he’d never managed it. 

The experience was starkly different from Historia; there he had been filled with a gruesome sense of wrongness and barely felt any sort of pleasure. With Mikasa he just felt echoingly empty while his body was on fire.

As she set a feverish pace, working herself up quickly, he resisted the urge to kiss her. He reminded himself the ache in his heart was not his. The longing, the frustration, the tenderness none of it was his to feel. It all belonged to someone else.

When she peaked she clutched him and gasped against his ear. “Eren.”

He stifled an involuntary flinch. Wrestling with that made him take him an extra beat torealize the dizzying yank into Paths hadn’t happened. He opened his eyes to confirm.

They were still in his office.

Mikasa was already reacting. She looked around frantically. “How?”

“I don’t know.” _Maybe because of Historia?_ He didn’t say anything.

She pulled away from him. “We have to get Zeke.”

“No.” Reiner caught her arm, pulling her closer. “Absolutely not. Zeke can’t know Eren’s alive. And no one else can know about this.”

“But there’s something… happening.” She protested.

“Mikasa, we always seem to be there just when we’re needed. Maybe he doesn’t need us right now. Maybe this thing you’re feeling isn’t happening to him.” The strange rubber-band nature of Paths time made it hard to understand causation. But it was true, they’d both always managed to get to Eren seconds before he needed them.

“Why didn’t this work?” She searched his eyes.

Reiner shrugged helplessly. “It might just be a one-time fluke.”

“I might never see him again.” Her face started to crumple.

Reiner pulled her into his arms, resting his head on hers. After a moment she pulled away because, as he knew, she couldn’t stand him touching her like that for long. He noted, morosely, that this was the second woman he’d made cry in as many days. Was he useless for this now too?

She got off him, dressed quickly. He did the same, pulling on his fatigues, then his singlet and over skirt. “I’m sending you with Augustus and Brandeis. Historia needs a body guard and you’re worth an entire company of infantry.”

She looked at him.

“Is that going to be a problem?”

She shook her head. “It’ll be good to see her again.”

Reiner nodded. “Don’t worry Mikasa, I’ll figure this out.” He levelled a stare at her. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

She shook her head. “No, Duovir.” She straightened her uniform jacket, brushing off some non-existent lint.

“Alright, you can go. Leave the door open.”

She nodded and gave him a scout’s salute. Like nothing at all had happened between them. Like it was no more intimate than a drill or equipment inspection. He gave the salute back to her.

She left.

He went back to leaning against the front edge of his desk, staring at nothing. Something tickled then dripped off his jaw; he wiped wet away from his face and looked at his hand in surprise, expecting blood. It was clear. With a jolt he realized he was crying. He stared at his wet fingers mutely. The most frustrating thing about crying, was that he never fully grasped _why_ he was crying.

His throat started to clench; he choked and coughed. He leaned forward, wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand.

“Reiner, we need to meet about Hitch’s report—“ Armin held a stack of papers up in his hand as he rounded the door into his office. He stopped short. “Shit. Are you okay?”

Reiner nodded rapidly. He couldn’t speak.

Armin walked over and reached out to Reiner. Then he stopped and dropped his hand, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “I saw Mikasa leave. She looked like she’d been crying. And here you are. Also crying.”

Reiner knew exactly what it would look like. A clandestine affair that, if exposed, would ruin the entire narrative he and Armin were crafting around the marriage. And the underlying truth was even more dangerous. He coughed to stop the choking and managed to get his voice to work. “I got ash in my eyes cleaning the flue.” He lied.

Armin stared at him for a beat, then shook his head. “We need to talk.” Armin pulled Reiner down so he could lean close to his ear. “Not here.”

—

Levi grunted a goodbye to one of his few customers as the man left. He shut the door to the shop, turning the sign over to show ‘closed.’

With great satisfaction he began wiping down the counter, then the tables and chairs, upending the chairs on the tables. Finally he began the soothing process of mopping the floor. Back and forth; back and forth. What was wonderful about cleaning was that it was simple and complete in and of itself.

Once everything had been washed down, he stepped behind the counter to clean up and sort his boxes of tea leaves and herbs. He took a moment to take down one of his favourites and measure out a careful scoop of dried hibiscus and black tea into a terracotta red pot. He boiled a kettle of water on the wood stove, let it sit until the boil settled, then poured it into his pot.

He placed it along with two tea cups onto a serving tray and walked with it through his swinging doors into the kitchen behind and his sitting area. He set the tray down on his circular table.

He poured two cups of tea, setting one in front of his chair and the other on the shelf under his one photo of Hanji. She was grinning ear to maniacal ear as she palpated a broadleaf tropical plant in the Marleyan botanical gardens they had visited four years before.

“Another quiet day, Hanji. Maybe I won’t die in battle, after all.” Levi said, he picked up one of Hanji’s journals. He’d taken to studying her work on the Titans and that had led him to the Marleyan texts as well. It wasn’t the Titans he was trying to understand, but hints of the forces that lay beyond them. But sometimes he liked to go back to Hanji’s work. She had been so in love with them and that joy saturated her writing. It made him feel almost like she was alive again and annoying the crap out of him.

After he’d opened to where he’d left off and started reading for a bit, he noticed a draft.

The false wall that lead to the basement was ever so slightly ajar.

“What are you up to you little shit?” With a grunt he closed the book and set it on the table. Before opening the false wall he double checked the store front and the kitchen, drawing all the curtains and lighting a lantern.

He picked up the serving tray of tea, took Hanji’s cup—“Sorry Hanji, this is going to be needed. I’ll give you a fresh one later.”—and pushed the false wall further inward, revealing an unpleasantly narrow and steep stair. He stepped onto the landing, pushed the false wall closed until it was fully socketed into place and started down the stairs.

Mikasa sat on the ground in front of the crystal. Inside was suspended Eren’s remains, a skeletal head and spine, preserved at the exact moment before death. The crystal filled the basement with an eerie blueish light. Beside the base was a folded scarf. Mikasa didn’t wear it anymore, she seemed to prefer it to keep him company instead.

“Hello, brat.”

Mikasa looked up. She wiped the tears from her eyes.

He handed her Hanji’s cup of tea. “I figured you’d come eventually. Considering everything that’s happened.”

She didn’t answer.

“So he did it.” Levi walked over to a stool by the crystal and sat down. “He married Historia.”

Mikasa nodded mutely.

“Is that why you’re here crying in the dark in front of him?” Levi asked. “Well it seems like you two are a pair. He’s in a loveless political marriage and you can’t love anyone but him.” Levi nodded at Eren.

She pulled her knees to her chest. “It might be over.” 

“I’m surprised he tolerated the situation as long as he did. Although I can’t imagine this is any respite from it.” Levi sighed. “Of all the things I’ve dealt with, at least that part of me was always my own.” He sipped his tea. “So what happened?”

“We weren’t able to get into Paths.”

“Any reason why?”

“I don’t know. It just didn’t work.”

“Probably for the best if this is the end of it.”

“Eren will be all alone. And if he fails...“

Levi looked up at Eren’s gaunt, skull-like face. “Yes I know, he’s the hope of all humanity. Once again.” Levi took a sip of his tea. “Did you consider what would happen if he knocked you up, brat?”

Mikasa choked on her tea. “What?”

“You know where babies come from right?”

Mikasa blushed. “That’s not going to happen.”

“Life has a way of surprising you.”

—

“So she’s using you.”

Armin rode beside Reiner. They had spent an hour on horseback getting miles between them and Alliance Town, periodically checking to see if they’d been followed. There were certain things no one but a select few of the scouts knew about. The fact that Eren lay suspended in a crystal in the basement of Levi’s tea shop was chief among those secrets. Armin could only imagine the chaos and destruction that would be unleashed if it ever got out that the man responsible for the Rumbling was still alive. Barely alive, but still.

“No.” Reiner shook his head. “She’s not using me.”

“Oh I see.” Armin snapped. “She loves you does she? You’re going to start a family together?”

Reiner winced at ‘family.’ Armin immediately felt like a heel for the jab, but he was even more furious at her. “Goddammit, Mikasa!” Armin clenched his hands fist around the reins. “Why are you so compulsive about that man?”

“It’s my fault.”

Armin stared at him. “Not for a single fucking second do I think this was your idea, Reiner.”

“Armin…”

“I’m going to get Annie to slap her. This was beyond irresponsible. Why are all my friends lunatics?”

“Armin, you don’t understand.” Reiner glanced around; Armin looked back towards where'd they'd come from. They were now deep within the plain surrounding Alliance town. As far as he could tell no one had followed them. “You haven’t seen what Eren is fighting. I have. She’s not just doing it to be with him. She’s doing it to keep him sane. If he loses it again, everything is back where it was. Worse because if Níðhǫggr wins, that thing won’t stop until the whole world is stomped into a puddle.”

“And what about you?”

Reiner closed his eyes, his exhaustion was palpable. “What about me?”

“This benefits her more than you.”

“Good.” Reiner said.

Armin took a breath to say more, then thought better of it. Did he really have the right to judge Mikasa? Was she any different than himself, manipulating Reiner into a political marriage with the person who had facilitated the genocide of his people for the sake of the future? Armin let the breath out and decided to try a different tact. “If there’s anything I can do to make it easier on you…”

“Easier on me?” Reiner glanced back at him. “Are you regretting what we did?”

“If I’m understanding this and you’re not just lying to cover for her… she’s giving him a respite from the fight to protect his sanity, right?”

Reiner nodded.

“What about you? Who keeps you sane?” Armin hesitated. “What happens if you lose it?”

“That won’t happen.”

“It has before.”

“Armin. It’s confusing, tiring and sometimes it hurts in ways I don’t understand but I’m building something. I’m not compounding my sins; I’m not hurting more people. There’s no reason for me to lose my mind now.”

“And what happens if you do?”

Reiner was silent for a long moment. He stroked his horse’s neck, scratching its withers. Armin realized he was trying to sooth _himself._

“I remember his life sometimes. And his father’s, the Owl’s, Frieda’s, Lady Tyburs’. That’s how I knew how to get ahold of their spy network. It’s easier to remember the men’s lives though. If he had a strong attachment, then I feel it too. Like you and Bertholdt I suppose.”

Armin inhaled sharply. _Annie._ “Then you and Mikasa—“

“It’s not worth the security risk to discuss that, Armin.”

Armin went quiet. He looked at his hands. “I’m sorry, it isn’t any of my business.”

“There’s no point regretting it. It takes both of us to fight Níðhǫggr. Sword and shield. So it had to be done. We just… lucked into the answer. If I lose it, he does, then we’re back where we began.” Reiner stared out at the horizon, his eyes unfocused. “Remind yourself. I was the selfish kid that started this whole mess.”

“Is that you talking or Eren?”

Reiner glanced at him, confused. “Huh?”

— Rumbling: 3 Years earlier —

“It’s not stopping!” Connie screamed from the jagged hole in the Attack Titan’s bone carapace. He and Jean clung to the edge of the tear, fighting to stay on despite the buckling and heaving of the Titan’s horrific motion.

Reiner looked from Connie to Armin. They were huddled in a dark space too small to contain five people—himself, Mikasa, Levi, Armin and a near comatose Zeke. What remained of Eren—a desiccated head and spine—was suspended by sinew, attached to the bone surrounding him. It swayed with the motion of the Titan. There was a faint smell of old decay; Reiner guessed that the only thing keeping him alive was having transformed at the very second of death. If they removed him, he doubted Eren would live. “What do we do?” Reiner asked Armin.

“He has to die.” Levi said. 

Mikasa gave a strangled choke. She didn’t move to do anything, just huddled in onherself. That was fine. Not interfering was strength enough, Reiner figured.

He watched Armin look at Mikasa, then at the gruesome state of Eren. “There’s one last thing we can do.” Armin said.

“We need to end this.” Levi said. “No more hesitation.” 

"No. If I use the Colossal, I'll kill you all too." Armin said. "And Eren has baited us into killing him, that makes me think we should avoid it except as a last resort." 

“What’s your idea?” Reiner asked.

“Ingest his spinal fluid. That’ll open up more options, right?”

“Someone will share part of his power and have access to his memories.” Reiner replied. “Drink enough and the entire power will transfer at the moment of his death.”

Armin stared at Reiner for a beat, then shifted toward what remained of Eren.

“Wait.” Reiner caught his shoulder. “I can’t tell you for sure what it’ll do. It might interfere with you using the Colossal. We need you more. Let me do it.”

Armin hesitated a split second, then nodded.

Reiner unbuckled his knife sheath, pulling his combat knife out and grabbed hold of one of Eren’s lumbar vertebrae. Armin moved closer, stabilizing Eren's spine. Reiner pressed the tip of his blade to the back side, steadied it with one hand and then placed the heel of his other against the pommel. He was about to hit it when he felt resistance rise inside him, freezing him in place. 

“Reiner!”

“Give me a second. This is unsettling.”

“Reiner, there’s no time!” Armin stepped over and slammed his own palm heel on the pommel. The blade bit deep into the bone. The sight broke Reiner out of his paralysis: he pulled the knife out again, re-sheathing it in one unconscious motion.

Reiner took a deep breath, swallowing a gag as he bought his mouth down on the hole, sucking out the oozing liquid. His first thought was that it tasted like seaweed.

Then it hit.

He fell. His paratrooper training took over as his knees buckled; he shifted his weight, and fell sideways, hitting calves first, then thighs, hip, chest, saving his head hitting the ground. Distantly he heard the others screaming his name, “Reiner!”

Was that his name?

Huh. Odd.

His skull exploded like it’d been hit by a silent headshot, he slipped out the exit wound; another world expanded around him, too bright, stinking of unwashed bodies and pig filth. Through eyes in a small, vulnerable body, he watched a man and a woman marry and felt an empty longing.

The longing dripped like acid, eating through the world and slowly filling a subterranean lake of poison. In another set of eyes he could see it, stinking like sulphur and rot, like the trenches, like the Rumbling.

The thing--he heard a name, Níðhǫggr--reached for her in the depths of that lake, following the bitter trail of her longing.

Because she was a slave, she served, thinking service would make her loved. Níðhǫggr fed her hunger.

He drifted downward in that deep lake, seeing through more and more eyes, each one another world or time, scarred by that same poisonous longing.

With every new world, every new flavour of mind, he felt himself dissolve into a welcoming darkness.

“Reiner!”

Distantly he felt pain. The pain grew louder and louder, until the darkness had fled and he was gasping in too much light. To fucking much light.

He clutched at his chest, his mouth full of wet copper; his fingers touched the handle of a knife.

Armin’s face came into view. He looked horrified. With a wrench he pulled the knife out and Reiner screamed as his chest seemed to blow open. For a moment all he could do was pant and try not to pass out again.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t think of anything else to do.”

“No, it’s fine.” He reached for Armin, missing him a couple times before finally grabbing his shoulder and levering himself up. “Holy fucking shit. No wonder you went nuts, Eren. Armin. It seduces you into thinking you can’t be loved without it.”

Armin grabbed the back of his shirt. “What is ‘it’?” 

Reiner shrugged him off and grabbed Zeke’s shoulder in a vice grip, shaking him. Zeke did nothing but moan and drool. “Shit. Well maybe we don’t need him to be conscious. Armin, I’m taking her to him. If this doesn’t work, we’ll have to kill him. And that means I have to fight it myself and I don’t know if I can.” Reiner caught Mikasa’s shoulders ducking down to look her directly in the eye. “Don’t say something stupid this time. Be honest with him.”

She stared at him, baffled. “Huh?”

He pulled her closer, catching her neck in his hand and kissing her. She gasped in shock and he kissed her harder, pouring all of another man’s frustration and longing into her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Armin is now in a permanent state of being fucking done with Mikasa and Eren.
> 
> Only Reiner could be in a love triangle with himself as the other man and still lose.
> 
> The three main male characters right now:
> 
> Jean: I’m livin’ la vida loca.
> 
> Armin: *sings* She’s havin’ my baby…
> 
> Reiner: My sex life is a horror show. fml. 
> 
> Also I figure Jean keeps his head under fire and has great situational awareness but also deserves a break from killing so… combat engineer! :D
> 
> Finally, I like the symmetry that Reiner inherits Eren's harem. But instead of using them, they're sorta using him. Rock that simp energy, Reiner!
> 
> **Retconned this a bit to fit better with future changes.**


	6. Selfish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hitch, Annie and Pieck investigate a murder. Armin asks Jean to keep an eye on Reiner. Annie struggles with her past and her future. Reiner and Historia come to an accord.

\--Alliance Town, Morgue--

“Why would the Mitras MPs be involved with this?” Hitch held her kerchief over her face as she leaned against the sink in the morgue’s autopsy room. The room was unnaturally bright thanks to the intense electric lighting, which made the scene feel surreal to Hitch. The body of the MP they’d found was naked under a thin blue sheet on the gurney in the centre of the room. Pieck was currently stooped over the body, examining it; her face behind a mask, wearing a smock, hands in rubber gloves. Annie stood watching her in identical attire.Hitch hadn't worn any gloves or smock; she refused to get more involved than simply observing. “My god, the smell.” Hitch gagged. She looked at Anne who seemed unfazed by the nauseating sweetness corrupting the air. “You’re almost eight months pregnant and you’re dealing with this better than me.”

Annie ignored that, choosing to respond to her earlier comment. “The Mitras MPs seemed to be content to squat in the capitol and let the Central Garrison fight off the Yeagerists. They’ve been weathering this situation better than anyone. Probably because they still have walls.”

“God, it’s such a mess.” Hitch stared up at the ceiling. “Each city’s fractured into it’s own armed camp. They’ve even rebuilt the walls around them. I mean as much as they could.”

“There’s not enough external pressure to maintain a nation under these circumstances. Empires end up supporting each other’s cohesion even if they’re in conflict.” Peick said. Her forceps made a disgusting squelching sound as she fished in the bullet hole. “We’re back to city states. But with no one to trade with on the continent… It’s likely human civilization will deteriorate further until we’re hunting in tribes. If we’re lucky pastoralists. Got it.” She pulled the forceps out. The bullet made a clink as it hit her metal kidney bowl. “The kids born today will never really understand the world we lost. They’ll be shaped by necessity into something more primitive. The scope of human understanding will inevitably narrow.”

“That’s depressing.” Hitch said.

“Isn’t it?” Pieck handed the bowl to Annie and then hesitated, looking apologetic. "Oh, sorry."

Annie shook her head. "It's the truth."

Pieck nodded. “We need to figure out what fired it. You’re more familiar with ammunition on the island.”

“A SMM mark four.” Hitch said. “What the Infantry uses.”

“No.” Pieck pointed to the marks around the entry wound on the man’s chest. “Look at the star shaped burst on the skin at the entry point. That shot was taken point blank. I’m pretty sure it was the one that killed him too. All the other bullets hit from a distance.”

Annie picked the bullet up with the forceps, putting it under a microscope mounted on a table against the wall. “It’s definitely not an .303. I’d say a Mauser .30 Automatic. The only source for that caliber on the island is us, now. A lot of the Yeagerists are back to muskets and swords. Unless this was from a stockpile.” Annie placed the bullet in a wax paper bag, labeling it and putting it in with the other evidence they’d collected. “The rifling’s off for a standard Mauser though. I don’t recognize this one.”

“So it’s possible they used a pistol we don’t know about?” Peick’s brow drew. She moved over to the sink to wash her gloves. “Body shouldn’t smell this bad if he was shot less than 24 hours ago. Organs are already decomposing. The other one wasn’t shot. His neck was broken. By a gorilla.”

“Huh?” Hitch said.

“She’s making a joke.” Annie explained. “Gorrilas are big hairy animals that look a little like humans. She means that whoever broke his neck was inhumanly strong.” 

“So a titan shifter?” Hitch asked. “We have all the titan shifters with us though right? Except Eren.”

“Could be an Ackerman.” Annie said. “We don’t know for sure that Levi and Mikasa are the only ones left.”

Pieck turned the faucet off. “I need some air.” She pushed the door open with her back as she exited. Annie followed and Hitch nearly ran her over in her haste to get the hell out. Annie and Pieck stripped off their gloves and smocks and masks in the scrub room beyond.

Hitch didn’t wait for them, happy to be in the cool air of one of the Army Hospital’s cinderblock corridors. The hallway was empty; the morgue was in the basement and relatively deserted.

“How elaborate.” Pieck remarked as she joined Hitch in the corridor. “The killer framed that Mitras MP for killing Hitch’s decoy contact.”

Annie shrugged. “So he could follow them back secretly?”

“Couldn’t he have done that without the extra steps? I mean unless he wants us to think the MPs are behind this and he doesn’t know the level of technology we have.” Pieck countered.

Hitch shivered. “He could have been watching me take pictures.”

“Yeah. I still have to develop those.” Pieck leaned up against the wall beside Hitch.

“It doesn’t make sense.” Annie followed Pieck, pressing her fist to her lips. “Who is this person? Does he represent a faction of the Yeagerists? Is Mithra making a move?”

“Maybe… it’s a calling card.” Hitch felt her stomach sink. “Criminals who would murder for fun sometimes would do things like that. Maybe he’s saying ‘Hi. Here I am!’”

—Alliance Town, North Hill--

“Commandant. I finished the assignment.” Jean stood at the edge of a ditch; Capozzi was at the bottom shovelling.

“Just a minute. Get some water in here.” Capozzi called to the soldiers behind Jean. “This clay is like cement.” Capozzi thrust his shovel into a pile of dirt and clambered up the side, looking rather like a filthy bear.

Jean sipped the coffee from his thermos and glanced over the ditch at the long line of trenches snaking up the hill over looking Alliance Town. “Are we expecting a siege?”

“Arlert gave the order.” Capozzi wiped his face, then his hands off on a cloth. “There are some concerning movements and the infantry’s riled up. Being too stupid to think, they survive on instinct. When your horses act crazy, you shutter your windows. We can’t expect to be ignored forever. Give.” He grunted and waved for Jean to hand him his papers.

Jean waited while Capozzi looked through his work. Here and there the Commandant looked thoughtful or frowned and Jean felt himself hold his breath. Finally Capozzi finished, nodded and slapped the pages back on Jean’s chest—Jean had to grab them quickly to stop them from falling—and walked past him. “Good. You’re coming along. You learn fast.”

Jean’s fingers shook. He nearly dropped the papers. _Good._ His lip trembled. _You learn fast._ He felt himself tear up.

“Are you just going to stand there?”

“Thank you, Commandant.” Jean gushed.

“For what? If you’re going to thank me for telling the truth then you’re fired.”

“No, of course not.”

“We’re going to have to expand the residential area as well. New influx of refugees coming.”

“Towards the east has the best natural drainage.” Jean offered immediately. “It’s fully surveyed too.”

“Make a plan. I want to see it by the end of the week.”

“Yes, Commandant.”

“Good.” Capozzi looked at him for a long moment, brow drawn. “You already got a seat at the table, Commander. Why bother learning to be an Army Engineer?”

Jean shrugged. “I don’t have much to survey. My skills aren’t really that useful in battle anymore. I don’t want to kill people even if they were. But I want to be useful, Commandant. In peace and war.”

Capozzi nodded and clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re one of the smartest men here.”

Jean felt his knees go weak. “Th…”

“Ah.” The Commandant dropped his hand, shaking his head. “No. Get that work done.” He stalked off, stopping to yell at a brace of soldiers who’d apparently been digging a trench fit to collapse.

“Thank you.” Jean whispered after him, when he was sure he couldn’t hear.

“Jean!”

Jean glanced up, scanning for the source of his name. His eye caught a bright flash of blond hair and he watched as Armin ran towards him.

“Hey, Armin.” He said when the smaller man neared. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to talk, privately.”

“Sure.” Jean nodded to the crest of the hill. “Let’s go there. I want to see what the Engineers are up to anyway.”

They hiked to the top in silence. Jean enjoyed the cool breeze and warmth of the sunlight and Capozzi’s praise. “Wow, look at that, they’re really turning this place into an ant-hill. Looks like they’re probably going to set up some artillery on the other side.”

“Jean, I’m worried about Reiner. He’s making some… questionable choices lately.”

“You mean the table shenanigans?”

“No not that. Something else. I’m sorry I can’t tell you exactly what.” Armin closed his eyes. “I’d do it myself but I have a lot on my plate right now—“

“I’ll say. Daddy Armin.” Jean grinned at him, pulling him to rub his knuckles in his hair. “I never would have thought you’d be the first of us to get a girl in trouble.”

“Yeah.” Armin said weakly, pushing at Jean. “More importantly I need to keep some professional distance from him. We can’t drag each other down. He doesn’t have a lot of people to rely on. And you’re the only sane friend we have.”

“Glad you noticed. I try.”

“Can you just… keep an eye on him? Impress some sense into him? Teach him to be happy?”

“It’s not a trick Armin, you just have to be open to it.” Jean sipped his coffee. “The older I get the more I can’t believe I ever was jealous of either of them. Being addicted to misery can look like courage, but it really isn’t.”

Armin frowned. “Jean…”

“No I get it. I’m sympathetic. He always looks like he’s about to cry or pass out from exhaustion.”

“He might be going the way of Eren.”

Jean chewed that over for a moment. “Nah. He’s not capable of that level of resentment. Eren was all ‘I’m weak, I’m useless! Wahhhh! The world must die!’ Reiner’s resigned to his inferiority.”

“I’m thinking implode more than explode. I’ve already failed a friend once. I should have challenged Eren more often; figured out some way to get through to him before it was too late. You were right, I clung to him. It’s sort of embarrassing looking back.” Armin sighed. “But… if anything Reiner is even more hard headed and impossible.”

“Because he’s trying to atone.” Jean laughed, sat down and pulled up a piece of grass. He cupped it between his thumbs to make a whistle. “It’s easier to reason with anger than guilt. It’s like that stunt he pulled with Hofferson. How do you even argue with it? I mean if he beat the crap out of the man, he would have lost the moral high ground. But that…? Instant righteous checkmate. His guilt’s a superpower.” He blew over the grass blade and the sound made a thready hum.

“If he continues like this he’s going to make some costly mistakes in his thinking.”

“I dunno, Armin. I almost want to let him loose and watch the show.” Jean cackled. “We’ve seen what rage and hate can do. Let’s see what crazy shit guilt does.” 

Armin’s eyes narrowed.

“Alright, stop that. Stop judging me. But you better manage your expectations. I’m not the best option for this.”

“Why?”

“Because he needs a woman.”

Armin stared at him, “What do you think I’m asking you to do?”

Jean’s stared back, his eyes widening. “Huh? No, that’s not what I meant!” He blushed beet red. “There are certain things I can’t… impress on him, as you say.” Jean tossed the grass and finished off his coffee. “Don’t worry too much about him Armin. It’s actually nice for once knowing that the most powerful man in town is… well _him_. Like, damn. Even before the rumbling I sometimes dreaded what Eren would do. I don’t have that dread with Reiner.”

“He’s not beyond being manipulated.”

Jean patted him on the back. “Alright. Let me take this off your shoulders. I’ll keep an eye on him. Go get back to managing Annie.”

“Thanks Jean.”

—Alliance Town, Great House--

_Annie smelled the festering stink of ripened corpses, pig-shit—The stench of Titans most resembled pig shit and when they evaporated the sharp methane funk saturated every surface—and bile from the slime covering the Titan’s disgorged stomach contents. That was what Trost became; a series of horrific stenches. So overpowering she could barely see through her watering eyes._

_Annie remembered gagging; the bandanas around their faces were a joke. But she kept hers on, having watched another cadet not wearing one manage to get squirted straight in the face with gore during the clean up. He’d run away screaming and vomiting._

_While she picked up the bodies, she wept and didn’t bother to hide it. No one cared to notice her misery; they were all dealing with their own._

_“How did Marco die?”_

_She turned. Jean was crying over a half eaten body. He looked frantic. “Did anyone see how Marco died?”_

_“I’m sorry.” She whispered._

_“There’s no point apologizing.”_

_Annie looked back. Reiner._

_She loathed him. She didn’t know which Reiner was looking at her now but she hated both of them: The Warrior because he reflected the worst parts of herself and the self-righteous Soldier who was the biggest fake of all. She hated him and she knew she was just hating herself. Because they were the same. No. She was worse. He killed for Marley’s beautiful lie about saving the world; she killed for herself._

_Annie felt herself crash through the wall of the Wallist temple in her Titan form. As she threw her hand out she felt it. People. For a moment they felt like rubbery balloons under her fingers, then they exploded and smeared like soft cheese._

_Children. Women. Men. Families. Dozens of people dead because she couldn’t control her fall._

_The blood smeared across the stone floor of the temple as she scraped off the gore and lifted her hands. They were covered in blood and dark bits of flesh. In her Titan she usually couldn’t smell anything but the moist greasiness of titan flesh, but somehow she could smell it, the overwhelming metallic stink of blood and the sewer stink of pierced bowels._

_Then she noticed. One of the crushed children had her face: no, it looked like her and like Armin. She stared at it, her hands shaking. Distantly she heard screaming. Her throat felt like she’d swallowed razors. She realized, she was screaming._

Annie woke.

She rocked out of bed and bolted for the bathroom, falling against the sink in her haste, her hands slipping over the wet marble. She ended up being sick on the floor, heaving until she was sobbing. When her body finally stopped its upheaval, she brought her hand down to wipe her mouth.

With a start she realized it was covered in blood.

She stared at it, uncomprehending.

She scrambled up to the sink thrusting her hand under the faucet and turning it on. Frantically she started to scrub—

“Annie!”

She barely registered Armin’s voice. She started to scratch at her hand.

“Annie, you’re hurting yourself!”

She felt Armin catch her wrists, holding in a grip like a vice. She tried to jerk out of his grip but in terms of brute strength he now surpassed her. He pulled her into his arms, his hand against her head forcing her close.

“Annie, you’re with me, okay? You’re not in Trost. One, two, three, four, thirteen, five…” He started to intone a sequence of numbers.

She whispered the numbers back to him then stopped at thirteen, confused by the abrupt change in pattern. “What?” She looked around, finally noticing their apartment, all the plants she’d carefully cultivated. “Where?”

“You were in a flashback.” 

She gasped. “The smell at the autopsy. It was like Trost. There was blood everywhere. The baby wasn’t breathing. I killed her. Because that’s what I am. A killer.”

He rocked her as he held her. “Annie, you were taking a nap. it was just a nightmare.” He lifted her up, moving her out of the bathroom and helping her back to the bed. When she was seated he went to the kitchen and got her a glass of water and broke off a bit of chocolate from one of her hoarded bars she kept in a cookie jar.

He held the glass to her lips as she rinsed her mouth out, spitting the water back in the glass. When she was done he showed her the chocolate, putting it on the bedside table. “In case you feel up to it.”

She wiped her face, nodding. “I’m okay now, Armin. I’ll clean up the bathroom.”

“That’s fine, I’ll do it.” He lifted her hand, inspecting the injury. “Looks like you cut yourself on my straight razor. It’s not deep, though. I guess I need to be more careful to put it away.” He got up and went to the bathroom, getting out their first aid kit from under the sink. When he got back she was lying down on the bed. He sat down beside her and picked up her hand, wiping the cut down with antiseptic, hissing at the scratches she’d inflicted on herself. “You’re not a killer.” He said quietly.

She sighed and closed her eyes. “Yes I am.”

“Then I am too.” He picked out a bandage and pulled it open, placing it down over her cut and rubbing the edges down so it would stick. “But that can’t be all we are right?” He took her hand and held it against her stomach. “This is proof enough of that.”

She closed her eyes, tears leaking. She always felt limp and numb after an episode. She wiped them away and glanced at the clock on their bedside table. “It’s time to go for dinner with my dad isn’t it?”

“We should stay home.” Armin said.

“No, I’m fine.” Annie shook her head. “Getting out will help. I want to see him.”

—Alliance Town, Residential Area--

"How was the honeymoon?" Karina asked. She was beaming at Reiner from her seat by Brock Leonhart.

Reiner shrugged, at a loss for words. They were finishing up a plain meal of potatoes, squash and beef, the meat had been another gift from Historia’s cattle ranch. Reiner sat beside by Armin—Annie had disappeared to parts unknown, begging morning sickness—while his uncle, Gabi’s father, sat at the head with his wife and daughter beside him. Gabi was currently reading some kind of text book—likely one Pieck had scrounged up for the kids—ignoring the adults. Reiner smiled wistfully at that. He missed her company sometimes but was glad she had started to grow in a different direction, away from him and what he represented. She’d developed from an aggressive, angry girl into a gentle, inquisitive young woman. He was proud of very few things in his life; putting a stop to her following in his footsteps was one of those few things.

"Tch." Brock shook his head at his wife. "How is he supposed to answer that? Some things are private.”

“No it’s fine. It’s not over. I’m going back tomorrow. I just had business in town. It went… well. She gave me a horse as a wedding gift. ”

“The chestnut mare, you brought back?" Reiner's uncle asked.

Reiner nodded. “She’s trained to rifle and artillery fire. And to provide cover. Calm temperament. Even stride. Her name is Sock." He'd been thinking about Historia's gift; why’d she’d given him Sock. After Armin’s lecture, he hadn’t gone back to his empty apartment in the great house. Instead he’d just kept going when Armin decided to turn back; spending the night out in the plain between Alliance town and the Queen’s Ranch. He liked the solitude and the horse’s quiet, undemanding company. Camping out reminded him a bit of his time with the Canties. The trenches were endlessly awful, and Reiner couldn’t deny that they were an assault on the five senses—and possibly ones that hadn’t been discovered yet—but he’d had a surprising amount of space to himself there at the knife’s edge. When he'd set up camp to sleep, Sock had followed him as he set about his tasks. She'd woken him at dawn by licking his hair and he'd seen by the dirt and disturbed grass that she'd spent part of it laid near him. The rest of it standing watch over him as he slept. "She's a smart horse. I think she likes me."

Brock listened to him carefully as if Reiner was speaking in riddles. "Sounds like a good horse."

“Can I ride her?” Gabi asked from beside her father.

Reiner stopped pushing the food around on his plate, smiling at her. “Sure.” Somewhere along the line she had developed a normal 15-year old girl fixation on horses. He set his fork down, most of the rest of them had stopped eating so he felt safe following suit. “I’m sure she’ll love you.”

“Is she stabled up at the Great house?” Gabi asked.

“Yes. But I rode her here.”

“Really?” Gabi’s eyes lit up.

“I like her company.” Reiner said. He jerked his thumb towards the hitching post in the backyard of the Leonheart’s residence. “Go say hi.”

“Can I?” Gabi stopped half way out of her chair and looked at her mom and dad.

Her mom smiled at her. “Sure, but don’t forget we’ll be having desert shortly.” 

“Great!” She bolted for the back door.

“If you don’t mind, I think I’ll join her.” Reiner pushed away from the table. "I’d like to get some air.”

He felt Armin’s eyes on him as he stood. Armin had been watching him all meal. Reiner figured he was going to have to deal with the weight of Armin’s concern for months at least. Probably wouldn't stop until he confirmed what Reiner had said for himself. He nodded at his mother and Brock, “Thank you for the meal.” He picked up his plate and Gabi’s—she’d run off and left it—walking toward the back door. He realized Brock’s dog, a lean red hound with a whip tail that wagged like a metronome, had followed him, hoping for a treat. He ducked into the kitchen and let it lick the plates clean.

"You really have to read between the lines with your son." Reiner overheard Brock say in the dining room.

"What are you talking about? Reiner is an open book."

He frowned, patted the dog, set the plates in the kitchen sink and picked up an ash tray from the counter. He exited the back door, walking down the porch step and into the yard. There was only so much family he could take, honestly. And by that he meant there was only so much of his mother he could take. She regretted using him as a tool in her vendetta against his father, manipulating him into becoming a child soldier… but by the time she did so, he’d gone through so much carnage it felt like someone else’s story when she’d apologized. There was still a gulf between them.

He found Gabi out by Sock. He’d taken off her saddle and bridle, hanging both on the fence by the hitching post. Gabi had found a curry brush somewhere and was busy giving Sock a good rubdown. When she realized Reiner had joined her, she glanced up at him. “Do you love the Queen?”

Right to the chase, as usual. Reiner shoved his pack of cigarettes back in his pocket, staring down at Gabi’s open, questioning expression. He knew how perceptive his cousin was: she’d pick up on a lie immediately. “Yes.” He said simply.

“Then why are you so sad?” Gabi returned to stroking Sock.

“When you love someone, they can hurt you more than anyone.” He scratched Sock’s shoulder.

“Did she hurt you?”

Reiner hesitated. “Yes and no. It’s more like I hurt myself. I don’t think I can be part of her life in some ways.”

Gabi digested this silently. She caught Reiner’s hand, staring up at him with her wide hazel eyes. “That’s not fair. I want you to be happy too.”

“Gabi! Reiner! Annie!”

Reiner looked back towards the house. “Ah. Looks like they’re serving desert.”

“Yay!” Gabi grinned and turned to run back to the house.

“Tell them I’m going to find where Annie got to.” Reiner called after her. He patted Sock and moved deeper into the cool dark of the Leonhart’s backyard. He pulled his packet of cigarettes out, palmed one out and lit it.

“Hey, idiot.”

Reiner glanced at the chair swing ahead of him. Annie was sitting in it in the dark. He couldn’t see her face but her shoulders were slumped; she seemed to be folded in on herself. He walked closer to her. “So this is where you got too? You know Armin’s covering for you.”

"Feels overstimulating. Too many people. How did you get used to it?”

“Used to it? I don’t know if I am.” He took a deep breath in, felt the rough scratch of smoke at the back of his throat and then the wave of relaxation. “You okay?”

“I thought I was going to die this year.” She said.

“Yeah, I guess we all got a second chance.”

“So many shifters never got one. Marcel. Bertholdt. Porco.”

“Ymir.” Reiner added.

Annie rubbed her stomach absently. “I’m going to have a kid.”

Reiner chuckled. “Yes, very shortly.”

“What did I do to deserve that? Survive?”

“I’m glad you did. I’m glad you’re having a kid. You make Armin very happy.”

“I don’t deserve him. I don’t deserve to have a child. ” Annie wiped her eyes. “I’m scared of having this kid. I can’t tell him, he’ll think I’m rejecting him.”

Reiner stared at her. It was hard to know what to say. “It’s what he wants.” He said finally. “It’s what you want, right?”

She didn’t answer.

“I think you’ll make great parents because you love each other.” He butted out his cigarette in the ash tray and moved to sit beside her on the swing. He lowered himself carefully so he didn’t jostle her.

“Is it that easy?”

“I don’t know.” Reiner felt helpless. He was out of his depth when it came to relationships or families. He was lucky he’d had his uncle and aunt, who’d raised him in ways Karina hadn’t. But he couldn’t see himself as a father; he still couldn’t wrap his head around being a husband—not that he was in any real sense. It wasn’t that he didn’t want those things, they just seemed absurdly unobtainable. Like wanting to be a bird. “It’s not something I understand.”

“It feels like you’re in a glass cage watching something you can’t touch.” Annie said.

“Yeah.” He lapsed into silence. Even before Karina and Brock had gotten together—which was frankly the best choice his mom ever made as far as he was concerned—Annie had felt like a sister to him. They were both born to be a weapon and raised by war. They both struggled with the same problem: how do you change what you are?

Annie sidled over to Reiner. Reiner glanced up surprised out of his thoughts and baffled. She smiled faintly at him. “Want to feel something cool?”

He looked at her skeptically. She caught his hand and pressed it against her stomach. He felt something flutter against his fingers, then a harder kick.

Reiner blinked. “Huh. Our bodies can still do this.”

Annie nodded, sniffling. “Yeah. Well, not _yours_.”

He pulled her into his arms; She didn’t resist, just rested her head against his chest. He felt an echo of Níðhǫggr’s repulsion. The thing loathed human generative energy: anything to do with love, sex, fertility and family. He grimaced, hating the feel of it slithering around in his mind. "I'm going to protect you Annie. You and Armin.” He pressed his lips against her crown. “One of us has to get out of this alive.”

— Queen’s Ranch—

Brandeis leaned on the fence surrounding the Ranch’s riding arena, watching the Queen riding a horse inside; although he had little knowledge of horses, she seemed to have a great deal of skill handling the animals. The horse she was riding was a huge pale stallion and she was jumping it over obstacles he and August had helped her haul out and set up after they’d finishing mucking the stables. Complicated contraptions with multiple rails and walls. She hadn’t shirked any of the work either, which impressed Brandeis no end.

The horse balked at one of the taller jumps and she wheeled his forward energy around to canter past it instead, patting his neck reassuringly.

“Didn’t you get enough of a ride out of Reiner?” Brandeis called as she rode past.

“Brandeis!” Augustus snapped.

“No. We had one day together.” Historia threw back over her shoulder; she urged her horse forward, going for the jump again.

This time the stallion leapt it and Brandeis whistled as sailed over the rails. “She can really handle that big thing.”

Augustus rounded on him. “Shut your fucking mouth you noxious sea creature! That’s a lady!”

Brandeis chuckled. “She didn’t even blink an eye. Certainly wasn’t raised a princess. She acts more like a ranch hand and a soldier. But.” Brandeis shook his head. “I feel for her.”

“What?” August stopped short.

“That was some serious frustration in her voice. I don’t know if she loves him, but she definitely wants to fuck his brains out.”

“You’re lucky Gottfried isn’t here. He would shove soap so far down your throat you’d fart bubbles.” August frowned. “Besides she just needs a working pair of eyes to want that.”

Brandeis grinned at him. “It’s not gay if it’s Reiner.”

Augustus laughed. “We all agreed.”

Brandeis folded his arms over his chest. “Makes me want to go over there and help her out.” He shook his head at himself and looked up the sky. “I’m surprised Jovus hasn’t struck me dead for even thinking _that_ about Reiner’s wife.” He watched Historia round the field, going for the larger jump. “There’s something off about all of this, though.” Brandeis turned back towards the stables.

“I know that look. What are you planning?” August asked.

“To help her out. Besides we should get back to work.” Brandeis walked towards the stables. Reiner and Dolphus were out front, Reiner lecturing Dolphus on some aspect of painting siding. Dolphus looked like he was irritated and trying to hide it. “Hmm.” Brandeis had noticed Reiner was being unusually… overbearing. Nitpicking people’s tasks to the point of taking them over himself.

When he neared he caught Reiner’s shoulder, turning him around. Dolphus looked immediately relieved. “Why are you in everyone’s face suddenly? There’s nothing here that’s beyond our intelligence. It’s just farm work. You don’t need to hang around. You know you can trust me to keep August off the horses.”

“Goddammit, Brandy!” August kicked at a block of hay. “For the last time, I don’t fuck horses.”

He turned to August. “Like you wouldn’t screw anything.”

“Anything human! Maybe a Titan. If it was pretty.” 

Brandeis rolled his eyes, turning back to Reiner who did not look amused. “Don’t you have better things to do than to breathe down our necks over petty bullshit?” He jerked his head towards the Ranch house. “Like her?”

“Brandeis.” Reiner’s voice held a warning.

“No, really. Why did you bring us here if you’re going to do it all yourself?” Brandeis squeezed his shoulder tighter. “Are you avoiding something?”

Reiner didn’t answer, he just blushed and glanced away.

Brandeis narrowed his eyes. “I think I get it. You’re gun shy. She’s someone that matters to you and you are afraid of fucking it up. But.” He patted Reiner’s shoulder. “It looks weird that you’re avoiding her. I don’t think she appreciates it.”

Reiner shoved his hand off. “It’s none of your business Brandeis.” He stalked off.

Brandeis noticed he stalked off _to the ranch house._ “I’ll tell her to meet you there!” He called after him.

August whistled. “Wow, surly.”

“That’s unusual. Something’s up.”

“Do you think they had a fight?”

“I don’t know. It’s hard to figure him out sometimes. He’s a handful in his own way. Complex as a poet.” Brandeis grinned at August. “I’m going to tell her to meet him at the house though.”

—

“Reiner?”

Reiner stopped in the middle of placing a dish of cold chicken back in the icebox. He glanced back, “Historia.”

“We haven’t talked since you came back.” She walked over to the drinks cabinet, pouring herself a glass of whiskey. “Do you want one?”

“It’s a little early, isn’t it?” He picked up his plate of chicken and sat at the table.

“I don’t want to drink alone.”

“Sure, why not. I’m not on duty. Chicken and whiskey. That’s an odd lunch.”

She poured a second glass. “Thank you for introducing me to your Captains. They seem very nice.”

Reiner chuckled. “Really? They must have been on their best behaviour, then.”

She chuckled and handed his glass to him, her blue eyes wide and shy, a hint of something fierce lurking underneath the shyness. He caught himself looking too long and took the glass, setting it on the table, he gestured to his plate. “I was hungry so I helped myself to some leftovers.”

“It’s your house too.”

He picked out a piece of chicken, popping it in his mouth. “It’s going to take me awhile to get used to that. I prefer sleeping under the sky, to be honest.”

She sat down on the other side of the table. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t understand why you keep apologizing to me, Historia.”

“Because…” She went silent. She took a drink and seemed to steel herself. “I didn’t do this out duty. I did it because I was lonely.”

He stared at her. “Huh? You mean you wanted to see the Scouts again?”

“No. I wanted to see you.”

He dropped the chicken he’d been holding on his plate and gaped at her. “Why?”

She gripped the hair at her temples, leaning onto her elbows on the table, head down. “I… can’t talk to anyone about what I… what happened. It feels like I’m in a cage looking out.”

Reiner took a sharp breath. _Annie._

“I thought you liked me when we were younger. You were the last person who saw Ymir alive. I…” Tears splattered on the top of the table. She finally looked up at him. “I wanted someone to apologize too.”

“You don’t need to—“

“Stop!” Historia hit her fist on the table. It made him jump. “Do you think I don’t need to apologize? Or is it presumptuous and you’ll never accept it?”

Reiner dropped his hands into his lap. His appetite was gone; his gut churned. “I don’t think you should apologize to _me_. To accept your apology… after what I’ve done myself. It would be presumptuous and selfish.”

“Then be selfish. I don’t have anyone else to apologize to.” Historia rubbed her tears away with the back of her hand. “Please. I don’t want to be the only one being selfish.”

Reiner stared at her until he’d managed to absorb what she said. She blushed under his scrutiny and he glanced away. He took a deep breath. “I thought you were a stranger. They’d told me about the circumstances of the Rumbling. But I figured, well we all are guilty of something. How can I judge?” Reiner rested his forearms on his knees, leaning forward. “Then I found out it was you.” He closed his eyes, sorting out his thoughts. If this was what she wanted he would do it. “I felt sick. And then I was in the Rumbling again; with that horrific screaming. I never heard things that loud outside of the trenches. And the smell, like the entire world was a battlefield.”

“Is it because of what I did?”

“I don’t know.” Reiner shook his head. He remembered castle Utgard, Krista—Historia—cleaning his wound and tearing her skirt to make a splint. She’d tended to him. Of course it had been based on a lie. “You were kind to me. The horses always liked you too so I figured you must be a good person.”

She didn’t say anything, just cradled her glass.

“Did you…” His voice choked suddenly and he had to cough to clear it. “This is embarrassing.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s pathetic.” He laughed mirthlessly at himself. “I wanted to marry you because you were kind to me.”

She took a sip of the whiskey. “What were you going to ask me?”

“Did you remember me?”

She snorted. “Yes, kind of hard to forget your impact.”

He nodded and lapsed into silence, chastised by the thought.

“Okay. Embarrassing.” She pulled her feet up so she was sitting crosslegged in the chair. “Remember when Sasha wanted to touch you? She was so goofy. Ymir got me to do it too.”

He felt his face get hot; he laced his fingers together. “Yeah I remember.”

“Um. I thought about that a lot.” She chuckled awkwardly. “I thought about what we would have done if we were alone.”

He glanced at her, surprised. “You mean like fantasies?”

She took a gulp of whiskey and nodded. “Yes. Exactly.”

He stared at his hands. Everything she’d said had confused him but this topped it all. It wasn’t just confusing, the idea of her fantasizing about him when they were teens was arousing and bafflingly painful to him.

“That letter you delivered. What would have happened if you were found out by Marley?”

“Execution. I was already on probation and passing information to the enemy is treason.”

“Why’d you do it?”

“I promised Ymir.” 

“Ymir.” Historia whispered. “I thought about that too. Why she left me and sacrificed her life for you.”

“I told her to run but she just followed us until Zeke found us.”

“What happened after that?”

He fisted his hands. “She was eaten by Porco and the Jaw titan was reclaimed by Marley.”

“And her… last days?” Historia choked over the words.

“Um.” Reiner squeezed his fingers together harder. “There was only few days between getting back and them doing the transfer. I stayed with her as much as they’d let me; Bertholdt did too. I got her books to try to give her something to do except wait. She was curious about my life so we talked about that, and hers. She couldn’t sleep so I… uh… I’d hold her and then she could sleep a little bit. She was scared. She tried to hide it. But I guess at some point she just figured there was no point. At the end she seemed to find some peace though. I promised to save you, no matter what.” Tears dripped onto the backs of his hands. “I don’t know why she did it, Historia. Why save me? I’m just a placeholder.”

He could hear her crying and he wished he could hold her, but he didn’t dare.

He continued after a time. “No one had ever done anything like that for me before then. She made me feel like I wasn’t just a tool in someone else’s war. I’m sorry for taking her away from you.”

“So you did it for her.”

He nodded, then shook his head. “No. That’s not the whole truth. I did it because I wanted to see you again. I wanted to save you from the walls.” He wiped his eyes. “In less than a week the Rumbling wiped away everything I fought for my entire life. Watching it… was the most horrifying thing I’ve ever seen. I don’t know if you’ve been in Alliance Town, but you can tell the difference between people who’ve seen it and those who haven’t. The way they think, the way they look, the way they move, it’s like something’s been carved out of them.” He went silent for a long moment. “If you remembered me… when you decided to do it… you knew I’d die too right? Maybe that didn’t matter to you? Or you didn’t think of it. I have no right to judge you for that. But I guess some part of me isn’t listening to what’s fair. I wish I could go back to just thinking about you as that girl that was kind to me. The one I was falling in love with.” Reiner dropped his hands between his knees; he felt weak. He knew there was more he should say but he couldn't make himself even begin to form the words. “I can do my duty. I wish I could make it less unpleasant for you. But I don’t know if I can do more.” He closed his eyes, he tapped his fingers on his chest. “It hurts.” He blew out his breath and they sat in a painful silence for a long time. He clapped his hands on his thighs, sitting up straighter. “There you go. Selfish. As requested.”

She had her head in her hands; she was at that ugly state of crying where her entire face was flushed and slimy and she sounded like she was about to be sick. Watching her, he felt terrible.

“You were the last person who was kind to her. The last thing she saved in the world.” She choked, and pressed her hand against her lips. “You risked execution to deliver a letter for me; nobody’s ever done anything like that for me but Ymir. And you wanted to save me no matter what. And I chose to murder you—”

“It’s not that one sided. I ordered Bertholdt to break Trost’s gate.”

“You’d lost your mind.”

“I set the split in consciousness up deliberately. I just lost control of it.”

Historia lapsed into silence, she was hiccupping again. Reiner smiled sadly; even if it was under horrible circumstances, it was cute to watch.

“You still lost your mind. You were a child.” Historia said. “I was an adult and I’m pretty sure now that I was the only sane person involved in the decision.In Trost… at least we had a fighting chance. I didn’t even give you that.”

“No, don’t—“

She slapped him. “That’s enough!” 

He stared at her in shock, his hand rising to his face. It stung but it wasn’t the pain that had shocked him. “Historia—“

She stood and slammed her fist on the table. “Be quiet!”

He flinched, his shoulders dropping lower.

“We could spend the rest of our lives debating who is more guilty. Let me be sorry!” She looked furious, crying, miserable and furious. “I get to be selfish now.”

“Alright,” he said softly.

“I’m sorry.” She dropped to her knees in front of him. “I should have known better. I should have listened to Ymir. I should have lived a life I was proud of.”

“What about your people? Marley would have killed you all eventually.”

Historia balled her hands into fists, she glared at him. “My people? What the hell did they ever do for me?”

Reiner chuckled. “You sound like someone I know.”

The fight seemed to drop out of her; she let her arms fall, her eyes downcast. “I shouldn’t have thrown away what she sacrificed her life for. I should have saved you, somehow.”

Reiner pushed himself forward and knelt in front of her. He caught her in a hug, one arm around her waist, the other around her chest, his hand in her hair; despite being so small, she felt solid, like she was rooted in bedrock. “Historia.”

She didn’t move to hug him back. After a moment she spoke, her voice muffled by his chest. “You’re touching me.”

“Yeah.” He pulled back, letting his hands drop to his sides.

“You don’t feel sick?”

“No.” The revulsion was gone, but it was replaced by pain. That was fine. It was an improvement. He had a lot of practice controlling pain. “It hurts though. I’m sorry.”

“For what? Being human? I broke your heart.”

“No—“

“Do I have to slap you again?” Historia snapped. She stood up. “I already feel terrible about what I did. Being able to apologize to someone for it isn’t making me feel worse, it’s making me feel less helpless.”

“You saved us, Historia.” Reiner said. “We didn’t have a place to go and you gave us one.”

She placed her hands on his shoulders. Her eyes were fierce. “From now on. I will save you, no matter what.” She seemed to loose a bit of her nerve. “That’s okay right?”

He nodded like his head was on a spring and then blushed because he knew he looked like an idiot.

She smiled, “Thank you.” She caught his face in her hands, leaning down to give him a chaste kiss on the forehead.

He caught her around the waist and lifted her, kissing her. She yelped against his mouth, then wrapped her legs around his chest: As far as they would go at least. She caught hold of his head like the first time, her fingers twisting into his hair as she received the first real kiss he’d given her.

Pleasure and razor sharp pain fought within him, until pain took his breath away and he had to stop, his head pressed into her shoulder. His chest throbbed; it felt like scars were ripping open inside him.

“You feel sick?” She whispered into his ear.

“No. It’s just pain.”

She gave him a wry, skeptical smile.“Just?”

He smiled back at her. “I can handle that.” He shifted her so he was carrying her bridal style. She didn’t seem as pleased with that as she was with her thighs wrapped around him but when he started to move to the stair, she offered no protest.

As he carried her up the stairs, he observed the pain’s movements inside him, to see what kind of relationship he could negotiate with it. Just touching her like this made him ache but nothing more and it also felt good. On balance the good was winning.

He set her down in the bed; she sprang up and started to pull off his shirt, getting aggressive with her tiny paws. “Wait wait. Slow down. Don’t tear my shirt.” _Give me a moment to establish what the pain’s going to do._

“I’ll fix it.” She growled and wrenched it and his singlet off. There she stopped, his shirt in her hands, forgotten as she stared at him like a wolf at a lame fawn.

Her look was intense enough to make him blush and shiver. “What are you staring at?” He winced at the stupid question as soon as it was out of his mouth. What he wanted to ask was “why?”

Historia was jarred out of her reverie by the question. She chose to answer by giving a low, evil grin, looking disturbingly like a raccoon that had just discovered a gigantic pile of wet trash.

He realized why Eren and her had got along. They shared a slinking, predatory quality. It was okay, he had always genuinely liked Eren: the kid was so damn _weird_ and in moderation that was fun. He caught the side of her face, “Historia.”

She gripped his hand, her expression innocent again. Also like Eren. “You’re mine.”

He held both sides of her face and kissed her. “Okay then.”

She ran her fingers up his stomach. The motion spit up pain and shivering pleasure inside him. Pain had been his near constant companion throughout his life because the better he could heal, the more injury he could sustain and the more injury, the more pain. And he healed better than anyone. Using his powers had become a race between his ability to sustain injury and his ability to overcome agony. As such his titan shifter powers had ended up giving him an ambiguous relationship to pain.

She started to pull off her shirt and when she was naked, it was his turn to stare and hers to blush bashfully. She was tone from riding and working the ranch and she was more a lot more filled out now; despite her height, she was unmistakably an adult woman and not a girl.

This time when he pulled her against him—her yielding body against his hard—even though it hurt like someone was running razorblades though his chest, he made a decent effort. Even if he was crying silently throughout, because of the pain or for some secret reason known only to his subconscious. He’d given up on trying to understand whatever bizarre reactions his body was kicking out around her. He could work with the pain in a way he couldn’t with the nausea. Certainly he could manage it, finally able to use his mouth and fingers productively. He could even enjoy it. Particularly with her squeaking and panting and tearing at his hair and managing to scratch him up with her little claws.

“Reiner!” She gasped into his ear as she convulsed and then fell back, flushed and limp. He realized that she hadn’t been acting that first day either.

As stillness settled over him, the pain came back in force. He pressed his face into the mattress and grit his teeth against his desire to scream. It felt like his chest had been held together by stitching and all of it had burst open at once. He couldn’t help pressing his hand against his chest to make sure the agony was only in his head.

“Reiner.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

“No.”

“Did you enjoy yourself at all?”

“Sorta.” He grimaced, realizing this must be doing a number on her feminine vanity, if she had any. Maybe girls who grinned like wet raccoons didn’t. He propped himself up on his elbows, looking at her under him. “Please don’t worry about that.”

She frowned and started to speak.

He pressed his finger to her lips. “I’m asking for myself. It’ll just put more pressure on me right now. Okay?”

She nodded and he rolled off onto his side, pulling her against him and burying his nose in her hair. That didn’t hurt at all.

“You’re still crying.”

“Yeah, it’s okay. I think it might be a good thing.”

She laced her fingers in his. “I’m going to save you no matter what.”

He chuckled, kissing her temple. “You already said.”

She kissed his fingers. “I mean it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy another chapter of “Reiner, and his harem of smol, angry blond people”.
> 
> [My mental image of Historia](https://imgflip.com/i/4pg3tz)
> 
> Even before chapter 135, I was setting Jean up to be Reiner’s emotional carry (and Armin’s to a lesser extent.) He’s the one that’s adjusting to peace best because of what people think are his flaws—he actively seeks out enjoyment and shuns self-sacrifice. So he’s able to carve out a good space for himself developing a badass professional skill set useful for peacetime and a relationship with Hitch because he knows how to be happy. 
> 
> Reiner, on the other hand, is still stuck in no man’s land. And Armin has his own problems allowing himself peace. Mikasa is just… fucking wut? Extracting her might take a Navy Seal team. Jean is their emotional anchor as they struggle out of the battlefield. 
> 
> Also—
> 
> Historia: I am attracted to you.  
> Reiner: *blank stare* Huh?
> 
> There are certain truths about the world that Reiner will never be able to grasp. Also, in her own mind, Historia is seven foot and built like a linebacker. 
> 
> Oh, and everything is about to go to shit. 


	7. Ackerman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reiner and Historia bond over war poetry. Levi and Zeke hold hands. Mikasa discovers there's more Ackerman. Armin can't decide if Reiner is an idiot or a genius. Reiner jumps feet first into the fire.

—Queen’s Ranch - Noon—

Reiner woke up at the sound of muffled talking. He opened his eyes, baffled for a moment where he was; sunlight slanted through gauzy curtains, the room was confoundingly feminine with flower print paper on the walls and embroidered runners on all the flat surfaces. He was not used to any decoration in the places he stayed in; usually he had a bed, a writing desk for his reports and a bookshelf, all made out of nailed together planks. The most elaborate place he’d ever occupied was his office in the Great House; someone else had put in considerable effort to make it look magisterial.

He listened to the conversation filtering up from the front drive and recognized the slow southern Marleyan drawl of Blouse. He relaxed back against the bed. It wasn’t anything to worry about.

Historia shifted in his arms and he realized he must have fallen asleep after… He brushed his fingers against the side of her face. She looked peaceful like that, her haunted expression gone, her long gold lashes fanned against her cheek, her skin faintly flushed and her breathing deep and even. It didn’t physically hurt anymore to touch her. But his heart still ached because she was responsible for destroying his world and he’d ordered the first attack on hers. If they could love each other it would never be that simple: it would always be streaked by dark and painful things, ugly things—disgust, horror, anger, fear, hate. Unforgivable things.

But still… as he held her, the past and the future slipped away. It was the same relief he felt in battle, when nothing mattered but the moment.

He ran his fingers through her hair while she murmured sleepily in pleasure. “‘The darkness tells how vainly I have striven/To free them from the pit where they must dwell/In outcast gloom convulsed and jagged and riven/Love drove me to rebel/Love drives me back to grope with them through hell/And in their tortured eyes I stand forgiven.’”

“What’s that?” She shifted, turning over to look at him. “It’s horrible. And beautiful.”

“Most of the Mid East ground war was fought in the trenches. I don’t know if you can call trench warfare fighting exactly, it’s more like waiting to die from a sniper bullet or a shell. Wastage, they called it. Of course, I didn’t have that fear. I just feared for everyone around me. It’s part of a poem composed during the Mid East war. It’s called ‘Banishment’. It resonated with me because it’s more about what it’s like to be left behind. I read it before the battle of Hamal. It’s funny, I can remember that but I don’t even remember the name of the woman I lost my virginity too that same day. Or her face. Or even really the event to be honest. I was pretty drunk.” Reiner hesitated, then chuckled, shaking his head. “Sorry, that’s not very romantic.”

“Romantic?” She looked at him like he’d said something a little stupid. “I’d rather you tell me about yourself. How long were you in the Infantry?”

“Two years. I thought it would be the rest of my life but then I redeemed myself and they let me come back to the Warrior Unit. I had friends there too. Most of them died.”

Historia absorbed what he said in silence, watching him with her shining blue eyes.

“Over twenty million people died in that war. Five million a year. Four hundred thousand a month. All because I half assed the Paradis mission. I lived in another of my mistakes. Every time I fail or succeed, hundreds of thousands of people die. If I had never inherited this curse, I would probably have just been one of them. Just another Infantry officer. I would have died, properly, alongside my friends. A mark in the wastage column in some ledger somewhere.”

She was crying, silently. He wanted to tell her to stop, he was hardly worth crying over but he decided against it.

“I’m glad you aren’t.”

“You have such a tender heart. How the hell did you decide to…” Even before she answered, he felt an echo of someone else’s guilt and self-loathing. _So you manipulated her, Eren._ “Don’t answer that. Sorry I asked.” He got up and moved over to the window. Outside he saw a half dozen ranch hands with horses and a bunch of his Infantry; Mr. Blouse was talking to them. “Looks like the Blouses sent some men over.”

“They were short handed for awhile but they spared some to help teach the soldiers.”

Reiner folded his arms over his naked chest. “Gives me an idea.” He glanced at Historia. “Do you have any clothes I can borrow?”

“I think so.” Historia nodded and finished pulling on her breeches.

He watched her get dressed, and had to reign in the desire to undress her again for a repeat of what they’d done earlier. He deliberately looked away, surprised at how fixated he’d become. He’d never really been sexually driven—if he was honest he thought the act was almost entirely a disappointment—but even though he hadn’t really gotten to the point of enjoying himself with her, he still was finding himself fascinated by her: The way she bit her lower lip when she looked at him, the curve of her breasts under her blouse, how her hips swayed as she walked.

She left the room and returned a few moments later, a shirt and pants folded over her arm, a hat and jacket in her other hand. She blushed when she saw him again and looked down at the ground, approaching him with shy, hesitant footsteps.

He blew a breath through his teeth, a sweltering ache exploding inside him. He took the clothes from her hands and turned around so she couldn’t see how much she’d affected him. Not that he was embarrassed, but he needed to focus now and he wasn’t sure how she’d react. As he pulled on his pants he thought of her getting on her knees in front of him and shut the thought down as his face burned. He pulled the shirt on, buttoning it up, evening out his breathing. He was starting to get the feeling that the next time would be far from disappointing.

“You look good like that.” Historia said. “More relaxed.”

“This might be the first time I’ve worn something other than a uniform or fatigues in three years. These are Trevor’s clothes?” He asked her over his shoulder.

“He left them behind.” Historia stepped over. “Lift your arms.” Reiner did as instructed. She grabbed the top of his jeans, testing the amount of give in the waist. Then she ran her hands over the back of his shoulders. “You’re pretty close. Same height, but you have a bigger frame. When I sew you a new pair, I’ll put more give in the seat and the legs. Jeans are tough so if it’s not uncomfortable it should be fine even if they’re tight. You might end up splitting that shirt though.”

Reiner lowered his arms. “This doesn’t bother you?”

“Trevor was a friend. Not a lover. He has a wife now; they married in secret because of…” Historia waved vaguely. “She couldn’t have children but they wanted a child, so… Gail has loving parents. She’s just not mine.” Historia crossed her arms over her stomach; pain ghosted over her features. “Me and Trevor didn’t even…”

He looked at her, confused. “Didn’t even…?” Then it dawned. He stared at her in horror. “Your first time was with me?”

“Well, not technically my first time.” She pressed her finger tips together. “Me and Ymir…”

He leaned his forehead into his hand, cringing. “Your first time with a man was that awful mess I put you through?”

Historia sat on her bed, pulling her knees to her chest. “It was a lot worse for you.” 

“You’re going to remember _that_ for the rest of your life. Because of me.”

She laid her head against her knees. “Then I’ll remember enjoying myself at your expense.”

Reiner stopped. “What? No.” He stared at her, confused. “It wasn’t at my expense.”

“You were miserable. I didn’t stop.” She folded her arms around her knees. “I just wanted to be touched.”

Reiner sat down beside her; he leaned his elbows on his thighs. “Just because I was struggling doesn’t mean you did anything at my expense. I chose to do it.”

She caught his hand, lacing her fingers in his. “I liked touching you. I think that’s what I’ll remember.” She smiled at him. “It’s getting better right?”

He lifted her hand to touch her fingers to his lips. He considered pulling her into his lap to kiss her but he was now quite certain if he started up again, he would not stop. “Yeah, it’s better.” _Understatement._

She knelt on the bed, hugging his head; he caught her hips in his hands, resting his head against her chest. “Besides, what I’ll want to remember is finally returning the favour for earlier.” She said.

“Huh?” He glanced up at her.

She had that same wicked, feral grin from earlier in the day. “I want to hear you scream my name.” She added a low chuckle to the grin.

He shivered, simultaneously cowed and aroused by her intensity. With a jolt Reiner wondered if that’s what kept Mikasa coming back to Eren. 

Shouts filtered in from the front drive, breaking the moment. Reiner glanced over at the window. He could hear the Paradisian accents in with the Marleyan. “Sounds like the Garrison finally slept off their hangovers.”

“What’s going on?”

Reiner stood up and walked over to the window. “The Garrison and my Infantry are arguing. Do you have a jacket I could borrow?” He walked to the door of her room and into the hall beyond. She followed him down her flight of stairs that led to the kitchen. Once there she darted over to a closet by the back door and came back with a hat and jacket.

“Should we stop them?”

“Not yet.” Reiner shook his head. “This is not a bad sign." 

Historia moved over to him, a hat and jacket in her hands. “Really?”

“At least some of your Garrison is loyal to you. They’re acting possessive. If they just rolled over I’d be more suspicious. And a dog that has something to hide doesn’t start fights.”

“I wasn’t paying attention to any of this.” Historia

Reiner took the jacket. “Because you were depressed. Armin and I are trying to smoke out a conspiracy.”

“A conspiracy? For what?”

“Don’t know entirely yet. There’s a lot of pieces but no clear picture. A coup attempt maybe. We think Mitras might be involved somehow.”

“A coup?” Historia’s stomach sank. “Are you in danger?”

He looked at her, his brow drawn. “Almost certainly. But I’m also really hard to kill so… I wouldn’t worry about it. I still don’t know if we’re actually dealing with a problem or just our own paranoia. Best case, the Garrison got lazy and they’ll shape up with a bit of competition. Worst case, you have a bunch of spies or enemy agents already in among your soldiers.” Reiner shrugged into the calfskin jacket Historia handed him. “Huh, this isn’t tight.” He took the hat from her.

“It was my grandfather’s.” She blushed. “You look like a cowboy.”

“I’m going to skulk around a bit. Observe things. Thank you for the change of clothes.” He walked over to the door to the back porch. He pushed through the back door and out.

She trotted after him. “Are you staying the night?”

He stopped and turned, catching her hands. “I can’t. I’m going back with the Garrison soldiers taking liberty today.”

She looked disappointed. He brushed the back of his fingers against her face. “I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

—

“They’re adorable.” Brandeis folded his arms on the fence rail, leaning his chin on his forearms. Reiner and Historia were still in the process of parting. Finally Reiner broke away, walking towards the ranch hands who’d come up to help out the Infantry.“Makes you happy just to watch them.”

“Damn, they’re making a ruckus in the front. I bet Dolphus’ squad is getting into a fight.”

“Yeah, well. That’s inevitable. The Garrison looked like they wanted to murder us the moment we rolled in. What’s he up to, though?”

“We should go settle them down. Come on.” August pushed Brandeis off the fence, towards the front of the Ranch house.

Brandeis shrugged at him. “Eh. Let them get it out of their system.”

“Of course you’d say that.” August shook his head. “I’ll turn my back and you’ll be cracking skulls.”

They rounded the Ranch house. The squad of Infantry on break was currently being harassed by the Garrison. Brandeis noticed it was mostly one way, his soldiers were enduring it with professional detachment. Although he also suspected it wouldn’t last. The Garrison had been left to their own devices for so long, they’d started to resemble gang members more than soldiers. With no one to enforce discipline on them in their chain of command, they looked like fit to just keep going and going. There was only so much being spit at and insulted by lazy fuckwits that a Cantie could take.

“Here’s trouble.” Augustus’s lips quirked.

Brandeis followed his gaze. Two Garrison soldiers were striding towards them. “Hey, you!”

“I always like to see new faces. Hi!” He waved as the Garrison soldiers squared off, bristling. “You look like you want something. Whatever could that be?” 

The Garrison soldier grabbed his great coat lapels and pulled him close. “You gone, Marleyan dog.”

He didn’t resist the manhandling. “Dog? I’m more of a cat person.” He said offhandedly.

August snorted. “Being called a dog is a step up for you, Brandy. I’d take it.” 

“Brandy?” The other Garrison soldier sneered. “What are you a fag?”

“So what if I am?” Brandeis grinned. “That’ll mean you all got your asses kicked by a fag.” 

“Oh shit. Now you’ve done it. You’ve engaged his love of dramatic irony.” Augustus stepped away. “I’ll get the first aid kit.” He headed towards their half of the barracks.

“Coward.” The man called after him.

“Oh, no.” Augustus stopped and turned. “I’m an officer. I don’t fight idiots.” Augustus jerked his chin at Brandeis. “He’s just a fucking savage. Brandy, you can break noses but no broken jaws and no fractured skulls. We need to work with these men.”

—

Reiner trotted across the back yard of the ranch. The air was dusty, which suited his purposes; he pulled the bandana over his nose and mouth, hiding his face.

“Mister Blouse.” He moved closer to the tall dark haired man. Sasha’s father. Reiner still felt his heart sink when he thought of Sasha. Of all the people the war could claim, her death seemed particularly unfair. Even more because it had been Gabi who pulled the trigger. The more she’d learned about Sasha, the harder it had been to face having done it; Reiner’d had to hold her while she sobbed helplessly more than once.

“Howdy.” Blouse said. “Reiner. How’s Alliance Town?”

“Entertaining.” Reiner pulled the bandana down, giving Blouse a grin. “Never a dull moment.”

“It was a very nice wedding. Wife loved it.” Blouse tilted his head at Reiner. “What ya up to?”

He leaned up against the fence beside Blouse. “I think some of the Garrison aren’t on the level.”

“Ah. Yeah.” Blouse nodded.

Reiner swept his gaze over the Ranch yard. The argument had settled down a bit in the front drive but the two clusters of soldiers—Dolphus’ squad who were on break and a portion of the Garrison who’d apparently never stopped being on break—still had a weighty air of grievance between them. He was fairly certain any spark would start that ablaze. And then there were Blouse’s men who were talking to the Army Engineer squad and a couple Garrison soldiers, all of whom were quiet and carefully absorbing what they were told.

“Anyone you could point me too?” He asked Blouse.

“Think they’re useless on the whole.” Blouse said. “I’ve never seen them do a lick a’work.”

“Bad leadership.” Reiner said. “Soldiers need orders.” He narrowed his eyes. “I’m not seeing all of them. Should be thirty, I see twenty.”

“Thought I saw some out back of the barracks when we came in.”

“Right, thanks. I’ll see you around.”

“I’ll see ya again right?”

“I’ll be around here more.”

“That’s good. Historia’s lonely. She could use company.”

Reiner smiled at Blouse, tipping his hat and then trotted off towards the barracks. As he did, he put his bandana back up. At the back, beside the well he saw the missing ten soldiers, some were playing a game of cards on a wooden table, the rest watching and passing around a bottle of wine.

Since he wasn’t in his uniform and at an offhand glance just looked like another ranch hand, they ignored him. He walked past, keeping his hat low, noting faces, and ended up by the paddock behind the barracks.

Behind him he could hear shouts breaking out. The Garrison and the Infantry in the front yard were fighting outright now. He glanced back. Some of the card players and their audience had looked up, but none of them moved and after a moment they returned to their game.

He moved along the fence line, back towards the front of the Ranch. “Huh.”

—

Historia watched as Reiner came back along the fence line. He didn’t say anything as he entered the back door, stripping off the calfskin jacket and hat and putting on his great coat. “I’m going to go deal with the fight.” He said as he exited the front.

She ran after him to the front porch and watched as he strode towards the brawl in her drive. His energy changed. Before, dressed as a ranch hand, he’d kept his head down and slid past everyone as unobtrusively as possible. Now he was projecting command presence.

“Stop!” He shouted. She could feel the force in his voice. The fight started to still, and then stopped as the soldiers stood to attention. She noticed even the Garrison pulled themselves into some kind of order. “All of you. If you had leave, you just lost it.”

She leaned against the porch post. She watched more Garrison soldiers filter in from behind the Barracks, watching from a distance.

“Captain Gais, get their names.” Reiner waved at the new arrivals. “Everyone else who wasn’t involved in this, you’re getting the leave these dumbasses lost. Dolphus, get them in the truck. We’re off in fifteen.”

The large blond man—Augustus—pulled a notepad out of his pocket and started talking to the men who’d been fighting.

“I expect you all to behave respectably. There’s a lady here.” Reiner turned back towards the Ranch house. Behind him Augustus took names and Dolphus herded soldiers into the truck.

He mounted the porch steps and walked towards her; still giving off that imposing, majestic quality. He caught her throat and chin, leaning close. “If anything happens, you can trust Brandeis, Augustus and Dolphus. I’m going to be sending Mikasa to stay with you. I think you should be able to trust most of the Garrison that’s left. I’m sorry I can’t take them all; I can’t make the argument to strip the Garrison out completely. Alienating Hofferson even more than I have already would be risky. Also unethical without proof.”

“When you come back.” She put her arms around his neck. “We could go riding. Camp out on the range. You said you liked being under the stars.”

“That’d be dangerous.”

“I’d be with you.” She looked up at him through her eyelashes. “You can protect me.”

“Oh really?” He slipped his hands around her waist and leaned close. “You want to return the favour? I’m a man, I don’t scream. But you’re welcome to try to make me.”

Historia shivered. The sheer weight of his gaze stunned her. Her cheeks were stinging hot and the hair at the back of her neck stood on end. Her heart was pounding in her ears; her mouth dry. She felt like a field mouse spotted by a hawk. For the first time he felt dangerous. It wasn’t dominance, that was too human, it was implacable _force_.

She felt dazed as her hands trailed down his chest, when they hit his waistband, she started to slip her fingers—

He caught her hands. “What are you doing?”

She jolted out of her reverie, looking up at him sheepishly.

“You don’t mind an audience?” He tilted his head at the soldiers staring at them from the paddock.

She blushed and stepped back. “You could come in for a few minutes.” She offered lamely as she pressed her hands together in front of her and stared at the ground. _Please. Please. Please._

He leaned forward, his breath hot against her ear. “I guarantee it won’t be a few minutes.”

—Alliance Town Afternoon—

“Hello Captain.”

Levi didn’t respond. Instead he handed Zeke a packet of tea and grunted.

“Oh, thank you. You mix the best tea. I’ll start a pot.” Zeke handed Levi a leather bound book. Then turned to pick up a kettle and fill it with water from his sink. “You know Captain, I almost get the feeling you’re starting to like me. I set Xavier’s next volume by your chair.”

“I’m waiting until you think we’re friends. Then I’m going to shiv you in your sleep.” Levi said.

Zeke grimaced. He placed the kettle and a small pot of water on his stove. “Ha ha. Captain, you’re such a cut up.”

Peick groaned.

Levi glanced at her. “What, what was that?”

“A pun. A cut up means a humorous person, but it’s also a play on—”

“Cutting him up. I get it. Having three quarters of the town want to kill him takes the intimacy out of it.” Levi sat in one of Zeke’s overstuffed leather arm chairs. “I wanted to kill you before it was cool.” 

“Alright, well. I assume that will be once I cease to be useful to all of you.” Zeke warmed the tea pot with water from the pot, poured it out into his wash water bin, then spooned in tea, checked the boil on the kettle, poured it over the leaves and covered it all with a cozy. To the uninitiated Zeke’s care was unnecessarily elaborate. Levi narrowed his eyes. Why did the man have to be one of the few who truly understood _tea_? He picked up Xavier’s work and flipped to the first page. He was still learning the Marleyan script. “What’s this word?”

Pieck sat down beside him and glanced at the word he was pointing out. “Simultaneous. At the same time.”

“Thank you.” Levi continued to absorb the text silently. She’d taught him to read, first Eldian, now Marleyan.

She placed her hand over his and then her head against his shoulder. She hummed, looking sleepy. “Tired?” Levi asked.

“I was up all night reading. I think there is another Ackerman on Paradis. Maybe not just one. So I was looking through the genealogy charts from the archive.”

“More Ackerman?” Levi’s brow drew. His family tended to be hit and miss so he wasn’t thrilled.

“Yep. I have some leads. That’s why I asked you here. All Ackerman are connected through paths so I thought we could try some experiments with Zeke.”

“Like what?” Levi asked suspiciously.

“She wants to see if you can access paths in contact with me.” Zeke poured out a mug and set it in front of Levi.

“What kind of contact?” 

“Skin contact.”

Levi shifted uncomfortably. “I have to touch him?”

“I have some other things to try first, if that’s too much.” Pieck pulled out a bakelite container. She popped it open. There were several vials of fluid. “Blood. Spinal fluid. A combination of both.”

Levi took a sip of his tea. It was excellently brewed as he’d come to expect from Zeke. “What do I do?” 

“Pick one out. Hold it. Try to… remember that feeling when your powers activated.”

Levi sighed and picked the least disgusting looking fluid out. He closed his eyes and tried to recapture that feeling of a hundred thousand memories overlaid his own, his nerves plucked like wires. He waited. Then he waited a little longer. Finally he got annoyed and opened one eye then another.

“Anything?” Pieck leaned close. Even Zeke had leaned over his coffee table towards him.

Levi shook his head. He tried the other vials in succession and got no further with it.

Peick looked at Zeke. Zeke sipped his tea, when he was done he leaned forward, his elbows on the coffee table and his hands clasped in front of him. Peick looked at Levi.

She had a softer quality than Hanji but she looked so expectant and hopeful—a strange echo of the times Hanji had got him involved in one of her ridiculously disgusting experiments—that Levi just sighed and grabbed Zeke’s hands in his own. Once again he tried to tap into that Ackerman instinct, but it fluttered just at the edge of his consciousness and refused to be captured.

After he’d spent what must have been a hour gripping Zeke’s sweaty paws in various arrangements—Zeke occasionally winking at him with a droll grin, he’d almost got himself punched for that—Levi decided he’d had enough. He shoved Zeke’s hands away. “It’s not working.”

Pieck blew out a disappointed breath and threw herself down on the chaise. “Dammit.” She lifted her hands, splaying her fingers. “What am I missing?”

“Well, if you’re done, I’d like to start my dinner.” Zeke slapped his knees and stood. “And I’m sure you two have better things to do than keep an old man company.”

“Thank you Zeke.”

Zeke smiled sadly. “Helping you with your work is the least I can do.”

Pieck caught Levi’s arm as they walked towards the door.

“I swear you did that on purpose.” Levi groused once they were outside.

“Made you hold hands with Zeke?”

“Is that your fetish or something?”

Pieck chuckled softly, placing a finger to her lips. She looked at him sidelong. “What if it was? Would you hate me for it?”

“Hah. The only reason I spend time with you is because you’re shorter than me.”

“Oh is that so?” Pieck smiled, looking at him sidelong. “Then I guess I shouldn’t come over later.”

“No, you should.”

She moved in front of him, catching his hands and tilting her head, coquettishly. “Oh really? And why is that?”

Levi smiled. “You know why.”

—Alliance Town—

Jean watched the returning Garrison soldiers roll through the wood and brick front gate of Alliance town in a carriage truck. Reiner was at the wheel; he pulled into the roundabout in front of the long, square brick processing building and parked, jumping out.

He waved the soldiers out the back of the truck, a clipboard in hand. As each jumped out, he got them to note their name on what Jean assumed was a duty roster. 

Jean trotted over, standing by Reiner as the Garrison soldiers milled around Reiner, writing names and then walking towards the door to processing.

“Hey, Reiner.”

“Hi Jean.” Reiner replied, finishing up with the final few soldiers and watching them walk towards their brick processing building, looking like he was hundred miles away. Pieck materialized from somewhere, and padded towards them like a cat.

“Reiner.” She said and handed him something that reflected the evening light.

“Peick.” Reiner answered, pulling the sheet off his clipboard and folding it, handing it to her. “Names. As requested.”

“Great. I’ll get on this.” Pieck smiled and rocked onto her toes to give Reiner a peck on the cheek. “For good luck.”

Reiner eyed her skeptically. “What?”

“You’re so out of it, it’s cute.”

“Huh?”

She gave a wave and smile, turning away. Jean watched her pick her way down the road, her movements always a tad sly.

Jean frowned at Reiner. “How many women are you sleeping with exactly?”

Reiner choked and blushed. “What?”

“I feel like an omelette.” Jean glanced at Reiner. “Do you like omelettes?”

Reiner shrugged.

Jean looked up at the afternoon sun. “Have you eaten?” 

“Not since lunch.” Reiner said. “And I didn’t eat much… got distracted.” He blushed and his eyes lost focus as he stared out at something beyond the horizon.

“Let’s get some supper from the Officer’s cafe.” Jean started off towards the barracks. Reiner followed. “Omelettes are more of a breakfast food though. A quiche is like a dinner omelette, I think. I wonder if the crust disqualifies it from being an omelette? A frittata, then. I want a frittata. Do you have anything you like to eat?”

Reiner hummed noncommittally.

“Hey. Wake up.” Jean snapped his fingers.

Reiner blinked at him. “Hm?”

“Heh. I’ve seen that look before. Congratulations.”

“For what?”

Jean beamed. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

Reiner glared at him like he was nuts. “What are you even talking about?”

“I asked if you have a favourite food?”

Reiner shook his head in confusion. “Favourite food?” He seemed to search his memory. “The Mid East soldiers had tins of caffeinated chocolate. Sometimes we’d find it… on them. I liked it. It wasn’t the sugary stuff. Dark chocolate.”

Jean felt ill. “You took it off bodies?”

“There’s a code. Anything perishable is fair game. Weapons have to be handed over to the quarter master. Don’t take jewelry or personal stuff. Some still did that though. Towards the end of my tour, I started to look forward to raids because we’d get smokes off the enemy.” Reiner chuckled. “Maybe we were all just fighting over cigarettes.”

“You like chocolate.” Jean grimaced. “Looted from corpses.”

“I don’t like bread. It’s irrational, I know.” Reiner said distantly. “But there was a rumour going around that they raided mass graves for soldier’s bones to grind into fertilizer for wheat. To be honest, it would surprise me more if they hadn’t done that. Almost all of us were Eldian. Why waste any part of us?” He glanced back at Jean. “Everything else is fine, I don’t have a preference for anything.”

Jean grimaced. “You know your life sucked.”

“A lot of people’s lives suck.”

“Think yours is a standout though.”

Reiner’s expression turned dark. “I can’t do anything about it.”

Jean dropped the topic. “You never got a stag, didya? We should get Hitch to play strip poker with us tonight. I’ll get her to bring some of her friends.” Jean grinned. “She’s terrible at poker.”

“Then why would she do it?”

Jean slapped his shoulder, chuckling. “Because you’re worse.”

“Duovir!”

Jean turned at the sound of Mikasa’s voice, watching his old crush walk across the cafe floor towards them. She was flushed and looking slightly frantic. She nodded a greeting at him then fixed a stare on Reiner.

“Captain Ackerman.” Reiner said, formally.

Jean’s brow drew. Reiner’s demeanour had changed instantly. The softness was gone; his face looked like it was carved out of granite, like he was braced to do something seriously unpleasant.

“I need to talk to you, Duovir.” Mikasa said. She looked at Jean apologetically. “Alone.”

—

Reiner unshouldered his rifle and rucksack, then pulled his greatcoat off in his office, hanging it in his wardrobe. He took off the shirt Historia had given him as he was fairly certain any quick motion would tear the shoulders. Before he could pull one of his own over shirts out he felt hands slipping around his waist. He sighed, bowing his head.

“This isn’t fair to Historia.” He turned around.

Mikasa’s face remained impassive, but he could see the desperation in her eyes. It made his heart ache. Reiner winced. _Shut it, Eren._

“I’ve explained the situation to Pieck in the most general terms I could and she is going to help.” Reiner picked the vial out of his pocket. “She’s already got some ideas. This is—”

“It took months to figure this much out!”

“She’s made a lot of progress with her experiments over the last few years.” He knew it wasn’t the answer Mikasa wanted. He also knew, somehow, that if he kept doing this with her he would destroy every bit of progress he’d made with Historia. But that was a selfish desire, wasn’t it? As long as he could function it didn’t matter if he enjoyed it. “Alright.” He closed his eyes, his shoulders dropping.

Instead of her usual right to business, he felt Mikasa step back. “I don’t want to hurt you with this.”

She was crying. Again. He caught her hand and then pulled her against his chest, his hand against the back of her neck as she laid her head against his shoulder. She was submitting to him touching her and that concerned him even more. “I know you don’t. It’s just an awful situation all around. Did something happen?”

“I know he’s suffering. I can feel it. That thing is dripping poison on him.”

“Is he close to breaking?”

“There’s something else coming.” Mikasa looked at the ground, focused on nothing he could see. “Something horrible.”

Over time she’d become more strangely intuitive about Paths. Her connection to Eren having opened up a connection to the nether realm he now resided in. “Even more horrible than Níðhǫggr?”

She lapsed into silence. After a time her frustration made her speak again. “Why is this what works?”

“I think it’s because Níðhǫggr doesn’t like generative energy. Something about it… repels it. It’s why you’re the one person able to get through to Eren now. Aside from me because… I am him sorta. Maybe Pieck would be able to tell you more.” Reiner tilted his head, rubbing his eyes. “His feelings for you were not chaste. Unfortunately I just happen to be his door to this world.”

He watched her wrestle with herself until he grew tired of it. “Let’s get it over with.” The fact that he actually was being factored into whatever calculus she was using surprised him; in some ways it made it easier… and harder. He felt Eren’s emotions but he knew he was making the final decisions to act on them. 

Since the unwritten rules had changed, he lifted her chin in his hand and—battling his guilt—leaned forward to kiss her. And he didn’t stop falling forward. Not until he staggered into a wall of humidity, his shoes kicking up clots of sand. He could smell the musky greasewood resin, the smoke from cook fires and the spices—piney cardamom, earthy curcumin and sweet nutmeg, and the whip crack of salt from the sea.

He tasted aniseed in his mouth and he realized he’d been drinking Mid East Rakı without any memory of it. In fact he was in a liminal state between tipsy and drunk, steady enough to walk and talk but loaded enough to not care too much about anything.

Mikasa was there, in a skirt and blouse and not her fatigues and infantry jacket. He blinked at that, confused.

“What am I to you?” The words seemed to tumble out of him unbidden. He felt foreign to himself as he struggled with some deep inferiority and nervousness, which he had frankly never felt around women before but now did. She looked shocked and confused, stumbling over an answer and he interpreted it as disinterest, which it obviously wasn’t so why?— _What the hell are you doing? Why are you laying a bunch of passive, indecisive bullshit at her feet? Be a man. Kiss her. Show her how you feel._

He experienced a brief, intense impression of two sets of hands fighting over a wheel. The sand became a sea of blood, then the bright streaking aura of paths. He—yes, but, which?—finally won the fight.

Reality filtered back in. What he guessed was reality, anyway. His ostentatious room; the smell of old leather and oak, and her in his arms, staring at him with astonishment.

He winced one eye closed, hoping that would somehow stop the kaleidoscope of memories or dimensions or realities from spinning around in his head. “This is getting too weird—“

“Reiner. There are are other Ackerman nearby.”

“Huh?”

“There’s one… outside Alliance town.” Mikasa caught his head between her hands, her eyes wide with fear. “The other is at the Queen’s Ranch.”

—

“Armin there’s a problem at the Queen’s Ranch—”

“Well there’s a bigger one here. Mitras is threatening war.”

Reiner stopped short. Mikasa stopped with him. “What?” He stared at Armin. They’d met in the hall between their offices.

“Come on.” Armin waved him into his office. Annie, Levi, Pieck and Hitch were already standing at Armin’s strategy table.

Armin continued. “They allege one of their MPs was trailing an assassin when they were shot to death by our Infantry. They have an envoy coming to discuss the situtation.”

“Hitch was shot at first.” Reiner countered. “That’s bullshit.”

“Yeah, we all know that. But can we prove it? We’ve also got reports from Nedlay that there is a buildup of Yeagerist forces. A possible massacre of civilians. Refugees. The ones who were supposed to be arriving here. And someone calling himself Samuel Barns is at our gate.” 

“There’s an unknown Ackerman at the Queen’s Ranch. Mikasa… sensed him somehow.”

Pieck perked up at that. “Really?” She caught Mikasa’s eye. “You sensed other Ackermans?”

“Shit.” Armin said. “We have to get Historia back here then.”

“Yeah, that’s critical. Get on the ticker. Make sure she doesn’t bring any of the Garrison with her. And tell her to keep it quiet.”

Armin waved his aide over. “I need you to send a message to the Queen’s Ranch.” The Aide moved with Armin over to the ticker on the far wall, inputting the message as Armin relayed it in a hushed voice.

Mikasa grabbed Reiner’s arm. “The man at the gate. Samuel Barns. It’s the other one. I can feel it.”

“Are you sure?”

She bit her lip and nodded.

Pieck moved over to her. “Can you tell us anything more?”

“It’s like I saw through their eyes, all at once. There are others I think, but those two are closest. The one outside the gate is dangerous. The one at the Ranch… I don’t know. Feels familiar. Like Levi, but not quite.” 

“Did you hear that Armin?” Reiner asked as Armin returned to the table.

“Historia got back to me.” Armin said. “She’s going to start getting ready to go. She must have been sitting by the ticker.”

Reiner let go of the breath he’d been holding. “Good. Mikasa says Samuel Barns is an Ackerman. We can’t do anything about Mitras until the envoy gets here, right? The Nedley situation will take time too. We need focus on getting rid of this Barns character.”

“Getting rid of him? He says he’s responsible for killing the Mitras MP—“

Reiner shook his head, grimacing. “Well that’s convenient. This is bait. Sloppy bait. We’re better than this.”

Armin hesitated. “But if he’s who Mitras is looking for?”

“They aren’t looking for him. They’re looking for an angle on us. Think about the timing. The solution appears just as the problem does? I might have bought it if they weren’t lying about what happened.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s suspicious. But what choice do we have?”

Reiner grabbed Armin’s upper arm, pulling him close. “Somebody wants this guy in our town. He’s an Ackerman, every second he’s here increases his danger to us. Our only defence against anything he decides to do is to shoot him before he gets in. Once he’s in he’s got access to hostages, probably contacts we don’t know about and our weapons. And as long as he’s lurking out there, he’s going to find a way in eventually. I’ll deal with it. If he says anything helpful, I’ll relay it to you.”

“You go? No.” Armin shook his head.

“I’m the best choice. The only one that could possibly come close to an Ackerman’s strength aside from Mikasa is me. And I heal a lot better.”

“No. This is a bad idea—“

“Isn’t it? The sensible thing to do is to keep him and give him to Mitras right? It’s so reasonable and logical. It’s the obvious choice. And I refuse to do it. You stay here and figure out Mitras and the rest of this crap; I’ll deal with him. If getting rid of him ends up getting complicated, then remember, you’re smarter than me, that makes you smarter than everyone else here combined. Don’t let them boss you around or threaten you. Annie.” Reiner caught her shoulder in his other hand. “Make sure you stay with him and don’t let anyone intimidate him.” He turned back to Armin. “Get Historia here no matter what.” 

He turned to Mikasa, gripping her shoulders and ducking to look her right in the eyes. He caught her behind the neck, kissing her. He felt a buckshot blast of emotions—thrilled, triumphant, aroused, sad, guilty all at once. And jealous of himself, somehow. He had no clue which emotion belonged to whom anymore. He pulled back, catching her chin in his thumb and fore finger to lift her head up. “In the two years we’ve been screwing I have not asked for a single favour in return. I’m asking now. Protect Historia. Do not leave her side.”

“You can’t go.” She said, breathless and sounding absolutely in love with him. Well, _Eren_. Reiner winced. Goddammit. It looked bad.

He brushed her hair out of her face. “I will come back. Okay?” _You won’t lose him._

Finally she nodded.

He glanced over, sensing tension: Annie, Pieck, Hitch and Levi were staring at them with confusion and slight horror. Well, Levi was staring in disgusted annoyance. “You’re…?” Hitch asked weakly as she pointed between Mikasa and Reiner.

“This isn’t what it looks like.” Reiner said quickly.

Pieck snorted and giggled. “I really want to hear your explanation of what it actually is.”

Armin looked put upon, “Reiner...” 

He let Mikasa go. “You’ll be fine. Mitras is bluffing. And they’re behind it, they won’t know what to make of any of this.”

Armin shook his head. “I can’t tell if you’re brilliant or idiotic.”

“Cover your bases. Assume I’m both.”

Armin looked defeated. “I need you.”

Reiner shook his head. “No you don’t. Say it again and I’ll slap you.”

Armin closed his eyes. “Don’t get yourself killed.”

“Bring your best game, everybody. I’m going now.” He waved. “Bye.”

—

Jean caught sight of Reiner approaching the gate on horseback. He’d noticed a lot of activity and his curiosity had got the better of him. What he assumed was a sniper team—from the impressive scopes on their rifles—was loaded into one of their jeeps behind a two horse cart. The small caravan sat at the town gate.

“Hey, Reiner! Wait up!”

“What’s gotten into you Kirstein?” Reiner turned Sock to the side, leaning on his saddle horn. “Why are you so clingy all of a sudden?”

“You’re not in your great coat. You look like a—“

“Yes, a cowboy. I know.”

“It’s a good look.”

Reiner stared at him, not amused. “Hitting on me isn’t helping your case.” He turned and urged the horse into a trot. Jean had to run to keep up.

Jean scooted closer as Reiner dismounted, handing the horse’s reins to one of the soldiers standing by the gate. “What’s going on?” He asked.

“There’s an Ackerman out front. His name is Samuel Barns. We got to get rid of him. Drop him off somewhere.”

“I’ll lead you to a good spot.” He offered immediately.

“I don’t want you involved in this.”

Jean’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know what ‘this’ is exactly but I’m not letting you go alone. I know the terrain best. It’s late afternoon. Depending on how far you go, you’ll be coming back in the dark. You all could get lost.”

Reiner sighed. “Fine. Whatever happens, keep at least thirty feet away from me and Barns.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to ride in the cart handcuffed to him. If they have to, they have orders to shoot him even if they have to hit me.”

“We don’t know how much you can heal!” Jean protested.

“Based on Pieck’s experiments, we confirmed most of it.” He leaned towards the sniper team in the Jeep. “Avoid my head if possible. I don’t know if I can survive a headshot. Take Sock Jean. The horse.” Reiner said, when Jean looked at him in confusion at the name ‘Sock.’

He took the horse’s reins from the soldier at the gate and watched the wooden gate swing open, creaking. Outside was the hill he and Armin had met on the day before, scarred by the trench system the engineers had dug. He could see soldiers manning the outposts. In a long stretch of dirt in front of the palisade he saw someone on his knees, his hands behind his head. The man looked was medium height, brown hair, plain face, unremarkable.

As they neared Jean saw him look up. There was a ruddy, nasty glint in his eye which turned his face from unremarkable to nigh demonic. The man smiled at their approach. Jean shivered.

“Okay Barns.” Reiner said, striding towards him. He hauled the man up, checking his pockets and patting him down for weapons. When he was satisfied he socketed the free half of the handcuffs closed on Samuel’s wrist and shoved him into the back of the cart. The horses jostled, unsettled by the violence of the motion. 

Reiner sat down on the cart's front bench, his handcuffed hand stretched awkwardly to the side. “I’m going to be escorting you far away from here. Do you see those rather scary men in the jeep? Those are two of the sniper teams that were embedded with my battalion. Between them they have over nine hundred confirmed kills. The scopes they have give them an effective range of one mile; they could drop ten shots in you by the time you managed to run out of range. Probably they could put a few more after that. I doubt even an Ackerman could survive that.” Reiner smiled. “I’m just here to slow you down. They’re here to kill you.” 

Samuel snorted. “Is that so?”

“I wouldn’t move your head that much. They’re pretty excited at the prospect of getting to do their job. Jean take the lead. Let’s go. ”

Jean shoved his foot into the stirrup and pulled himself up and over, kicking Sock forward once he’d settled in the saddle. He navigated her past the trenches and wooden outposts into the plain beyond Alliance town. The sun was on its downward arc, which made him feel all kinds of uneasy. Behind him he heard the cart move, then the jeep.

“What the hell have I got myself into?”

—

It turned out Samuel liked to talk and he stank of rum, smoke and rank sweat. Reiner was vaguely miserable by the time they hit the tenth mile, but mostly because of the talking. He clicked at the cart horses to step up the pace, flicking the reins one handed.

Samuel laughed. “So how long do you think you’re going to last against Mitras?”

“Would be stupid for them to fight us.” Reiner said. “What’s your relation to them anyway? You don’t have a Mitras accent.”

Samuel grunted and ignored the question. “Why do you think it’d be stupid?”

“Because then the Yeagerists will pick off the winner.”

“Hm.” Samuel looked out at the sand. “I suppose you’re right, Cincinnatus.”

Jean had lead them through the plain to the desert that lay between them and the ocean. It was a long stretch of nothing that reminded Reiner unpleasantly of his time in the Mid East. Without Jean to guide them, they would have had to avoid it for fear of getting lost. But he had to admit that it was a good choice to put a dangerous and a hard to navigate landscape between wherever they dropped the Ackerman off and Alliance town.

Jean turned around on Sock. “Why does he keep calling you that?”

“Cincinnatus was a Marleyan hero during the time of the Old Republic. He was granted absolute authority as dictator by the senate to fight an invasion. He fought it off in sixteen days, gave up his power and retired back to his farm. He’s considered a model of civic virtue and responsibility. A man who wields power decisively but doesn’t seek it.” Reiner smiled ruefully. “He’s mocking me, Jean.”

Samuel laughed. “I guess Islanders don’t know much about the history they decided to destroy.”

Reiner looked at Samuel sidelong. _Islanders?_

“Before Titan powers got shat out into this world, we just killed each other the old fashioned way: with ingenuity born out of hatred. It was a world seething with war; Tribe against tribe against tribe. Must have been a great time to be alive.” Samuel grinned wolfishly. “And then two tribes figured out the secret to peace. They formed the kingdom of Marley. Which then became the republic of Marley. Or maybe it had a different name at that time, who knows?” Samuel leaned back against the cart wall. “I see what you’re doing, Cincinnatus. You’re trying to resurrect the Republic. The real Marley. The one that existed before all of this corruption.”

“I’m just doing what I think is sensible. I don’t have an ulterior motive.”

“He hates walls. They all did. They wanted a world where people could go where they pleased.” Samuel turned towards Jean, projecting his voice. “Do you know what walls really are Jean? They're reminders that there are predators in the world.”

“You don’t talk to him.” Reiner pulled him around. “You talk to me, or you talk to yourself.”

“Heh. You’re worried I’m going to steal your boyfriend?”

Reiner snorted. “Sure. Let’s go with that.”

Samuel laughed. “You know why ranchers hate wolves? Because wolves make cattle go wild. It reminds them that they’re prey, that they need to live by their wits. People like you don’t like walls because they’re a reminder that people like me exist. We keep you all swift and smart because we make sure the world isn’t safe. And you want to make the world safe, don’t you? You want to put down roads and drainage ditches and water pipes, you want everyone to live peacefully, never thinking of any danger. You want to turn the whole world into a ranch for your cattle. With no place for people like me.”

Reiner shook his head. “I don’t think we know each other well enough for you to be this salty about my existence.” 

“Hah. I’m a creature born of force. And I don’t like obsolescence.”

“Reiner! We’re about twenty miles out. Ocean’s a mile west.”

Reiner glanced up at Jean, then pulled the cart to a stop.

“So why are you fucking that Ackerman girl? While being married to another woman?”

Shock dropped through him. He didn’t let it touch his face. _How did he know…?_ “Get out of the cart.” Reiner stepped over the seat back into the cart’s belly. He shoved Samuel to his feet and out the back.

Samuel laughed. “Oh look at that. Your boyfriend reacted. He must not have known you were cheating on him.”

Reiner grabbed Samuel by the jacket, bodily hauling him away from the cart. “From here it’ll be a twenty mile walk back to Alliance town through a desert with no water. If you do make it, we’ll shoot you on sight. Or you can go that way,” Reiner nodded towards the west, “One mile that way is the ocean. You make your choice.”

“I know your secret.”

“You’re going to need something more damning than a bit of gossip that can be explained by me being a pig.”

“That’s exactly it. I know the real reason. And I know even more than that.” Arnold leaned close. “Your town is a miserable little pile of secrets and I’m holding the pin that’ll blow every single one sky high.”

Reiner blew out a breath. Of course it would get complicated. “What do you want?”

“Aw, don’t give me that face. I have to hand it to you, you have some mighty fine instincts when it comes to trouble. I was really hoping I’d meet up with that Arlert boy. I bet I could have convinced him to let me through your gate. But I’ll just have to settle for my main objective. You, I want you. How long did you think a war criminal like you could evade the hangman’s noose? Checkmate, Cincinnatus.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> —
> 
> Imagine, if you will, having Eren’s hot mess in your head.
> 
> The Mid-East war seems to be set up as a parallel to World War One. I don’t know if anyone else has pointed out but once again Reiner has to live through the consequences of his actions as he watches millions of people die in a war his failure to act decisively in Paradis started. Wow does his life fucking suck. 
> 
> In Season 4 episode 1 we get more insight into the Eldian soldiers (aside from the Warriors.) There’s a bit of a gap in the World Building however. 
> 
> In World War 1, Generals had the same casualty rate as enlisted men (that is privates, corporals and sergeants.) The lower ranking officers like Captain and Lieutenant had unbelievable casualty rates, 2-3 times higher than enlisted men of lower ranks.
> 
> To even have the same chance of surviving the war as the lowest ranking soldier, you would have to have the rank of General as an officer. Any rank lower and you were sustaining more injury and death.
> 
> If the Marleyans are said to offload the suffering of war onto the Eldians, then they would have to unload most of the command structure of the army onto them as well. So Eldians should occupy the majority of every rank from Lieutenant to General. 
> 
> Luckily there’s a precedent for an oppressed people serving their masters while occupying positions of command. 
> 
> The Ottoman Janisaries, one of the first professional armies. 
> 
> Narratively this is probably a bit too complex to convey in anime or even manga, so I can understand why it was overlooked or omitted. 
> 
> Here’s another story that was never told. Since it’s likely that the Marleyan military is effectively Eldian up to the rank of General, what happened when Eren warned them about the rumbling? Did they continue to serve Marley, or did they rebel and defect? 
> 
> Since they’re quoting “Ode to Joy” in canon, I figure I can get away with dropping some Sassoon poetry and making direct references to Roman historical figures. Maybe our history is identical up to the point where the Titans were created. :D 


	8. Boys' Adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reiner figures out who his kidnapper is. Annie and Armin figure out Alliance Town's next step. Mikasa discovers a second secret Ackerman.

— 20 miles outside Alliance Town: Sundown—

“There’s no reason to bring Jean.” Reiner said. He stood with Barns a few paces from the two horse cart. The sky was darkening from glowing blue to indigo; a cold wind spat up bursts of stinging sand.They were huddled close enough that anyone who glanced over and didn’t know the context might think they were friends sharing a secret.

“Got to make sure you can’t transform .”

Reiner looked at Barns _._ Reiner leaned closer. “You haven’t convinced me to come with you yet. I could just let you pull the lid off and take my chances with the fallout. I might just do that if you involve him.” He looked back at the sniper team. “Take one of them instead.”

Barns shook his head. “You’re a smart man, Cincinnatus. You know that if we know this much about you, we can do a lot more damage than spread gossip.” 

Reiner grabbed Barn’s jacket. “Not him.”

“If you’re going, I’m going.” Jean piped up. He’d moved Socks closer in defiance of Reiner’s request for him to stay away.

Reiner closed his eyes, growling in annoyance. “Jean.”

“That’s settled then.” Barns yanked Reiner’s hand off his jacket. “We have a volunteer. Now lets give them a heads up.” He angled his head at the snipers.

Reiner walked with Barns over to the cart. One of the horses had a saddle pack radio. He cranked the unit over, charging it. Barns picked up the handset for him.

Barns nodded. “Tell them you are leaving with me. And order them not to follow. That’s it.”

Reiner waved at the snipers and waited for them to wave back. “Double six. Double red six. Write this down.” Reiner glanced at the horizon. “We’ve stopped one mile from the sea, twenty miles from—“

“Don’t go off-script.”

“Us stopping by the sea isn’t that important. Fine.” Reiner turned back to the the radio transmitter. “There’s a change of plans. Jean and I will be going with Samuel Barns. Don’t follow us. Don’t send anyone after us. I can’t explain further, I have to keep things quiet—”

Barns pulled the handset away. “Alright, that’s enough. You don’t listen very well do you?” He turned the radio off.

Reiner stared at Barns. “You’ve infiltrated the Garrison. That’s how you got the information?”

“Infiltrated? We got an invitation. Jealousy is one hell of a drug. Now, let’s get going. If I don’t word to my contacts by tomorrow morning, all of this poison gets released into your town. Get this off me.” He lifted his hand, still handcuffed to Reiner.

Reiner took the key from around his neck and unlocked the handcuffs. Barns took the key.

“You!” He called to Jean. “Get over here!”

Jean wheeled Sock over and dismounted.

“Put your hand out.”

Barns socketed the handcuffs closed over Jean’s wrist. “There you go. Now, we’re going to walk to the ocean.” He pulled a lantern from the cart and the canteens of water. “And we’re going to signal my contact.” He glanced up at the emerging stars and then chose a direction, walking towards a dark hillock of scrub in the distance. After he’d walked fifty feet he turned to look at them. “You can join me any time now. Remember, my finger’s on the trigger.”

Reiner glanced at Jean as they started to move. “Why did you volunteer?”

“Eh.” Jean shrugged. “I don’t want you to get lost.”

Reiner sighed. “About Mikasa—“

“What are we going to do about him?” Jean asked. “I mean don’t get me wrong, I am curious if you are actually having sex with Mikasa but I’m prioritizing dealing with this current situation.”

Reiner shook his head. “I remember the horror in Hofferson’s eyes when I got him to point the pistol at my head. I’m wondering if what he said to Armin was less of a threat and more of a warning. Maybe it had something to do with this guy.” He turned to Jean. “I didn’t want you to end up involved in this. Also, I am. With Mikasa.” 

“Okay. How long?”

“Two years.”

“But you stopped when you married Historia?”

Reiner shook his head. “No.”

Jean went silent for a dozen paces. “I just realized I don’t know you at all.”

“It’s not what you think. I can’t tell you what it is exactly. But I’m not doing it to enjoy myself.”

“Oh.” Jean hesitated. “I see. So you are still Reiner. I don’t know if it makes it any better.”

“Huh?”

“Well. I can hear it in your voice. You’re having sex with possibly the two most attractive women we know, and you’ve still managed to sound miserable. I don’t know whether to feel jealous or pity you.”

“How about you both shut up and focus on not falling behind.” Barns yelled back.

“What do you want him for?” Jean called back.

Barns laughed. “All in good time.”

“What the hell’s going on?” Jean asked Reiner.

Barns laughed harder. “Fortunately for me, unfortunately for you, your friend still thinks he’s a soldier, when he’s actually a King-maker. I was hoping for an opportunity to sow some chaos but to be honest, time was a factor. And I have to say, watching the fish just jump into the boat on his own was all kinds of satisfying.”

Jean narrowed his eyes at Barns back and then leaned close to Reiner. “You and Armin are playing some kind of four dimensional chess right?”

Reiner shook his head.

“That’s right. You can’t talk about it. I got it.”

Reiner stared at him. “No. I fucked up Jean.”

Jean said nothing for a long time. Reiner was just about sure he was done talking entirely when he finally spoke up.

“What.”

—Alliance Town - Great House Arlert's Office —

“We just got a radio message from the sniper team. Reiner and Jean left with Barns. Reiner gave orders not to be followed.” Hitch said.

Armin’s stomach sank. He’d had a feeling of dread since Reiner left and now it felt like it had been a premonition. “Well that wasn’t part of the plan.” He balled his fists at his side. “Tell the sniper team to stay put for the night and observe. Last thing we need is them getting lost. We’ll send another team out to them in the morning. Hitch, how long will it take to debrief them through the radio? We need more information.”

“Fifteen minutes maybe? The connection isn’t great.”

“Get on that.” He turned to his Aide. “Tell Parval that we’re going to need a security detail here for everyone here and then contact the rest of the senior staff.”

“Even Hofferson?” Peick asked.

“If he’s part of this, he already knows what’s going on and if he isn’t then he needs to know. We still have no solid evidence that he’s up to anything. We’ll reconvene in the meeting room in an hour. Hitch, Pieck get all the information you can from the sniper team in the meantime. Wait.” He stopped Hitch from leaving. “Before we meet with everyone else, I want to go through whatever you find out from the debriefing.” He nodded at Hitch, Pieck and Levi. “Meeting room in half an hour. Everyone else take a break.” He waved at the door to his office.

“Is he…” Mikasa’s face was impassive but her eyes held a rising fear. “Is he gone?”

“We don’t know what’s going on yet.” Armin said.

Levi caught her arm. “Now’s not the time, brat. Lets go.”

Armin crossed his arms over his chest, holding in his panic as Levi levered Mikasa out, followed by Pieck and Hitch. He was left with Annie, who was watching him steadily as she closed the door.

“Armin—“

"Fuck! That idiot!” Armin pounded his fists on his desk. “I knew I had a bad feeling about it! We misread their intentions. They weren’t after the town, they were after him. He wouldn’t listen.”

“No, you didn’t tell him to shut up.” Annie countered. “What a fucking asshole. ‘Don’t let him get intimidated!’ All while he’s bulldozing over you.” She blew out a breath. “But it’s hard, I know. Once he gets something in his head it’s almost impossible to oppose him.”

“We should have thought it through more carefully.”

“Yeah like he gave you time for that? This is scary.” Annie folded her arms across her belly, leaning back against the desk. “I get the feeling they understood him. And you. They just exploited his massive blindspot.” At Armin’s questioning look, she continued. “He sees himself as worthless. That’s why it didn’t occur to him that they were after him not the town. When it should have. And of course he charges off half-cocked and you don’t know how to stop him because you need time to absorb the situation since there was so much coming at you at once. It’s really well executed. Could have been accidental. But we shouldn’t under-estimate our enemy’s intelligence at this point. Maybe they’ve been watching us.”

“Damn.” Armin his head in his hands. “We screwed up.”

“Ehhh…” Annie tilted her hand back and forth. “We know they need him for something. So they aren’t going to kill him. Or let him get himself killed. At least for now. There’s no reason to believe that whatever cowed Reiner so quickly wouldn’t have worked just as well in the town. With the added disadvantage that we would have had a hostile Ackerman among us.” Annie shook her head. “The smartest move might have been to send Mikasa instead of him. But considering what we witnessed, I’m guessing you would never convince him of that. Did you notice how unsettled Mikasa was? He was feeding off of that too.”

“Goddammit. How am I going to deal with all this? Fucking Mitras is threatening War, the Yeagerists are on the move, Reiner got himself kidnapped, Hofferson might be planning a coup, we may or may not have infiltrators. There’s an unknown Ackerman at the Queen’s Ranch. It’s a fucking nightmare.” Armin pressed his hand against his forehead. “Everything is going to shit!”

“It’s pretty dire.” Annie agreed. “But on the other hand, we’re not about to die.”

He fell heavily in his chair, leaning back and looking at the ceiling. “Why do people hate just leaving well enough alone? Nobody wanted this land. Nobody wanted these refugees.”

Annie leaned on the heels of her palms on his desk. “Because you’re doing something that makes them feel stupid and small. While they’re sitting on their asses behind their walls or arguing over who sucked Eren’s cock best, you’re creating change. That’s why. It doesn’t take much intelligence to tear everything to the ground, it takes a lot more to build something where nothing was before. Because you allow yourself to be vulnerable, you allow yourself to fight for something without knowing how it ends. That’s courage.”

“Not knowing.” Armin closed his eyes. He felt the panic recede, as a direction to go in occurred to him. “Right. We have to figure out the questions we should to be asking.”

Annie opened her hands and waved them towards him. “There you go.”

— 21 miles outside Alliance Town, Oceanside: Night—

"Why did this happen, Reiner? How did this mistake get made. Why are we here following a dangerous man in the middle of the night on the beach to an unknown location instead of playing strip poker with Hitch and her friends with exceptional assets?”

Reiner shook his head. “Because I’m an idiot.” They were currently walking along the ocean shore; the sharp metallic stink of seaweed and salt reminded Reiner of the Founding Titan and the taste of spinal fluid. He’d already started to tune Jean out as his mind flattened and expanded, a soft echo of what it felt like to be hauled into Paths. Distantly he heard screams and felt the rush of adrenaline from battle.

“Armin even warned me. ‘He’s going to make a mistake in his thinking.’ But did I listen?Actually no, what am I thinking? This is perfect. Instead of a bachelor party we're going on a final suicide mission. It's peak Reiner. You didn't consider that they might be after you? You're married to the Queen. That makes you a King. And what happens when the king gets captured? The game ends."

“You’ve been nagging him for an hour.” Barns turned around, walking backwards and throwing his arms wide. “You’re making me feel sorry for him. Cincinnatus shut your wife up or I’m going to fucking drown him.” Barns stared past them, his brow draw. “Why is that horse following us?”

“Because he doesn’t know when to quit.” Reiner said darkly.

“That horse.” Barns pointed.

Reiner turned. There was a dark horse shaped mass in the near distance, picking its way over the beach. “Sock?”

Barns stopped. “Go tie her to something.”

Reiner shook his head. “If I tie her up she might die before she’s found or she could get attacked by wolves. That’s a valuable horse.”

“Really?” Barns looked over. “How valuable?”

“She’d trade at a thousand gallons of oil or a couple ounces of gold I’d imagine.” Reiner said lightly.

“Okay, change of plans. Stay here.” Barns walked past them toward Sock. As soon as he got within thirty feet, Sock startled and ran off. They ended up in a standoff; Banks trying to get near and Sock bolting every time he did, but then trotting towards Reiner when he turned away to come back. Eventually Barns threw a rock at Sock in frustration and returned to where he’d left the canteens and lantern. “Fucking horse. I’m wasting time.”

“I’ll get her for you.” Reiner called out. He whistled. Sock wheeled around and cantered over, shying away from Barns a bit as she neared. “That’s a good girl.” He stroked her neck.

“This guy doesn’t like horses.” Jean said.

“He doesn’t like anything but money.” Reiner said, watching Barns climb up a rock on the shore to set up his signal lantern over Sock’s withers. Reiner turned and scraped his boot over a bit of sand, clearing out the stones and fragments of shell. He started to scratch words into the sand in Eldian. **They’re blackmailing me.**

Jean took the stick. **Who is he?**

**His walk. Said ‘islanders.’ Pirate.**

Reiner swept the words away with his boot.

**What does he want?**

**Kingmaker = Me**

**?**

**To sell me to Yeagerists**

“I don’t understand that. Why would they sell you to the Yeagerists?”

Reiner closed his eyes, breathing out a sigh of annoyance. “Jean.” 

Jean grabbed his hand surreptitiously, squeezing his fingers: He tilted his head at Barns.

“Money, dear boy. And connections. And fuel for our boats.” Barns supplied, walking back from the rock.

“But why would the Yeagerists want him?”

“Barns found out who I am. It solves the issue of succession.” Reiner said. “Whichever faction that captures and executes the man responsible for the Shinganshina atrocity will be the one declared Eren’s legitimate heir. Ending their civil war and uniting them.” Reiner waved at what he’d written in the sand. “Thus I’m the king-maker.”

“Then you’ll be dealing with an army of over fifty thousand. All aimed at your little town. And since you’ve figured that out, then I can tell you selling you the Yeagerists is option two. Beatrice can explain option one. You might take to it. Who knows?”

Reiner turned towards Barns. “Who’s Beatrice?”

“My sister.” Barns chuckled. “The Pirate Queen. Going to be cold. Let’s get a fire started. Go gather some kindling.”

Reiner glanced at Barns, then at the scrub on the hills by the beach. “Not much to burn.”He started out towards it, dragging Jean with him.

“This isn’t as bad as I thought.” Reiner said as he collected dry twigs and branches.

Jean choked. “This is not as bad as you thought?”

“He’s a pirate, not zealot. All we have to do is make a better deal and he’ll take it. He doesn’t give a shit about the Yeagerists' politics.”

They finished gathering what they could and returned to Barns’ makeshift camp. Reiner grimaced at their small pile of bark and small bits of wood. They wouldn’t be able to build much of a fire with it. As Reiner set about making what he could out of their meagre gatherings, Barns settled himself on the ground, his head pillowed on a rock he’d found for the purpose. “You seem softer than I thought you’d be, Cincinnatus.”

Reiner glanced up. “Hm?”

“You’re the commander in chief of the best Infantry in the world. You don’t seem like a hard man, though.”

Reiner shrugged. “I do what I have to.”

“Heh. I have to watch out for you then because you aren’t what you seem.”

“Best Infantry?” Jean asked.

“Yeah. The Canties were infamous in battle. If I was your boss, I would have picked the Yeagerists off one by one. With that infantry? You could have done it too. Hell I don't even know which way to bet when the Yeagerists come together and try to smash you with all their forces combined. Probably bet on the third option: mutual annihilation. So why didn't you do it? Kill them all when you came on the island? Would have saved you this headache now."

"I made a promise." Reiner knelt by the fire; the cold wind had turned icy. "There are bigger stakes than the ones you see in this world." 

Jean huddled against Reiner's side. Which was awkward since he was taller, and made more awkward because they were handcuffed together. If that wasn't the case Reiner'd probably put his arm around Jean's shoulders. Instead he rested his hand on Jean's thigh, which was weird but any alternative position would have been worse.

“If they’re so fearsome, aren’t you afraid they’re coming after him right now?” Jean asked, oblivious to Reiner's embarrassed accommodations.

“Hm. You’d think that would be a problem, wouldn’t you?” Barns tipped his hat until it covered his face. “I’m going to take a nap now. Be quiet.”

“You’re not going to tie us to anything?”

“Nope. You can do what you like, but if you aren’t here when the boat launches, you’re fucked.”

“This is the most casual kidnapping I’ve ever been part of.” Jean turned toward Reiner, the movement ended with him resting the side of his head against Reiner's.

Reiner resisted the urge to jerk away and send them both tumbling, if not to break the excessively intimate contact, then at least to be able to focus on Jean's face as he spoke. "Jean, could you move back a bit? You're so close I can't move my head without kissing you." 

Instead Jean grabbed Reiner's head with his free hand. “This guy’s really confident.” Jean said, sotto voice.

Barns grunted. “I’m confident I’ve engaged his curiosity. I find it’s more satisfying to lay out facts and let people make their own choices. Considering everything that’s going on that you do not know about, you lucked out when you fucked up in our direction.”

—Alliance Town: Great House Meeting room—

Armin leaned against the table edge, his chin in his hand as Hitch finished transcribing the message she’d received from the snipers on the meeting room chalkboard.

**We’ve stopped one mile from the sea, twenty miles from**

**[Don’t go off script]**

**Us stopping by the sea isn’t that important. Fine.**

**There’s a change of plans. Jean and I will be going with Samuel Barns. Don’t follow us. Don’t send anyone after us. I can’t explain further, I have to keep things quiet**

“‘We’ve stopped one mile from the sea.’ ‘Us stopping by the sea isn’t important.’ And Barns telling him he’s going off script. That’s standing out for me for some reason.” Annie said. “Why risk angering Barns by saying something that isn’t important anyway?”

“It’s really relaxed sounding for someone who’s been kidnapped.” Hitch said darkly as she sat down in one of the meeting room chairs.

Armin folded his arms over his chest. “Alright. So maybe he’s saying something else. Let me try to think like him.”

Annie dropped her pitch to mock Reiner’s gritty baritone. “Hi, I’m Reiner. I think I suck. I sorta do suck.”

Pieck snorted.

“Okay shut up.” Armin snapped. “Have some respect. He’s been kidnapped. Besides your impression is terrible. You should have more pride in your craft. I meant put myself in the scenario. The most important thing is to give us clues about this guys’ identity right? And he has to hide the information in plain sight. Hmm.” He rubbed his chin. “So he defies Barns to tell us their location, and says the location isn’t important information anyway. But he does say “sea” twice.Ah!” He snapped his fingers, he glanced at Annie. “He means this guy’s—“

“From the sea!” Annie finished for him, smiling back. “Like a sailor.”

“He even gave us the code to decipher it. All in a bunch of offhand comments and deflections. Damn he’s quick witted.” Armin shook his head. “This was your weakest Warrior candidate?”

Annie rubbed her arm, hunching her shoulders. “He never was stupid… just puny.”

“No he was sorta stupid too. He got better once he decided to think for himself.” Pieck said. “A sailor. Or a pirate. That’s plausible. Before the walls came down, Paradis had the longest unprotected coastline in the world and it was close to multiple shipping lanes. The titans make building in the south difficult, but pirates were able to set up strongholds in the north. The threat of Titan attack worked to their favour in terms of keeping hidden… as long as they were careful.” 

Muller and Capozzi walked into the meeting room. Capozzi looked exhausted, like he’d been woken from a dead sleep. Armin felt guilty; the Engineer Commandant had already been working harder than any of them. Parval trotted in after them. 

“Sorry to call you in at this hour.” Armin said. “Things have gotten complicated.”

“Yes, your Aide briefed us.” Muller said. “That was an interesting choice Braun made.”

Armin hid his rueful grin behind his hand: Muller had a way with framing things.

Noticing the informal nature of the arrangement, Muller pulled himself and Capozzi chairs from the table and brought them over to sit in front of the chalk board. Capozzi sat down heavily in his and promptly fell asleep. Muller crossed his legs and watched Armin intently. Parval chose to stay standing. Eventually he walked over to shake Capozzi awake.

Armin finished writing on the chalk board. “Alright. We have several important questions to answer. Who is the enemy?” He wrote ‘Identify enemies’.“Mitras, the Yeagerist factions, but now we have this Samuel Barns. All we know about him is that he’s a sailor. Or a pirate. And an Ackerman. Is he connected to the others? We also don’t know if we’ve been infiltrated by hostile agents. We have some leads—“

Pieck lifted the notes she’d gotten from Reiner.

“But we need to figure out how to turn leads into suspects.” He wrote ‘Find Infiltrators.’ “We also need to figure out our military response to the Yeagerists massing at Nedlay and killing refugees on the way to Alliance town. If we don’t protect them, we’ll loose Nedlay as an ally. There’s another Ackerman at the Queen’s Ranch according to Mikasa,” He waved at Mikasa. “Although Historia is on her way here and there is nothing more we can do about that. Finally, we have to figure out how to rescue Braun.”

Armin looked around the room. “I know there’s a sense of urgency to act because of what just happened. But we can’t move impulsively right now. We need more information. That’s what we need to focus on, waiting and watching. I don’t want anyone to do anything aggressive—no confrontations, no rescue missions—not until I say so.” He looked directly at Mikasa as he said that. “Pieck and Hitch, I’m putting you in charge of finding out how to flush out the infiltrators.” Armin turned to Parval, “Obviously we need some kind of plan to deal with the Yeagerists at Nedley. Mitras’ threatened war is pending until we talk to the envoy, but we probably should start thinking about engaging them as well.”

Parval nodded. “I’ll get on that.”

“Which leaves us how to get Reiner back.”

“Let him get himself back.” Levi said.

“What?” Mikasa rounded on him.

Levi stared at her. “Listen. He’s smart and resourceful. He’s also harder to kill than anyone here. Possibly anyone on the planet. There’s no way they physically forced him. You can’t kidnap the Armoured Titan, you just invite him to come along. So let’s stop calling it ‘kidnapping.’ He had his own reasons for going. Even if he didn’t expect it.”

“What about Jean?” Hitch said.

“It’s a good thing Jean’s with him.” Levi said. “Jean knows this island better than anyone. That’s a huge advantage.” Levi leaned onto the strategy table. “Armin, if I were to put a team together to infiltrate anywhere on this island, those are the first two I would pick. It certainly wasn’t intentional and it’s stupid that it wasn’t, but it’s not like it’s a complete disaster. We’ve already got a lot going on. Let them fend for themselves for now.”

Mikasa moved towards him. “Armin, we can’t just—“

“We can.” Without even looking at her, Levi grabbed Mikasa’s shoulder, preventing her from walking toward Armin. “And we will. If he tells us to.” 

Armin frowned. “And that’s it then?”

“No.” Muller tapped the desk, interrupting. “You said yourself we need more information before we act. We should scout the coastline again. Mobilize our aerial unit immediately. And look through our current coastal photos for any clues to these pirates’ whereabouts.”

Armin didn’t look at Mikasa. “Alright. That’s what we’ll do. Everyone’s got their marching orders. The envoy’s here tomorrow. Let’s get this done.”

— Alliance Town: Great House Foyer—

Brandeis watched Armin, Levi, Mikasa and Pieck leave the meeting room and walk towards the main stair that would take them to the mezzanine and Armin’s office. There was a lot of tense energy in the building and much of it centred on a glowering Mikasa. Brandeis watched her, the sheer amount of angry force she could give off was strangely compelling.

“What’s wrong with her?” Gottfried asked. Gottfried had met him, August and Historia—along with a small squad of infantry—at the town gate when they came back with the Queen then escorted them to the Great House and the seating area in the foyer, just outside the main meeting room.

“She’s obviously pissed.”

“I meant her.” Gottfried pointed towards a figure curled into a chair ball by the far wall. Hitch. She had her face hidden behind a hand, but it was obvious she was crying.

“Her and Jean are screwing.” Brandeis said. “All the infantry officers know because they are not exactly quiet.” He frowned and snorted. “Lucky fucking bastard.”

Gottfried frowned. “Do you have to be so crude in front of the Queen?” He nodded at Historia.

Brandeis glanced down at the small blond. “She doesn’t care.”

“I don’t.” She said, she pressed her knuckles to her lips. Her eyes were puffy from crying.

“Reiner’ll be fine.” Brandeis said. “Jean will be fine because he’s with Reiner.” He added, loud enough for Hitch to hear. She looked over, her hands dropping and she smiled weakly at him.

“Your majesty, you shouldn’t be here.” Hofferson stalked in from the front door to the Great House. He caught Historia’s upper arm like she was a naughty child and shook her.

Brandeis bristled; catching his wrist and forcing him to release her, “She’s safe with us.”

Hofferson stared at him; Brandeis tightened his grip on the man’s wrist. To his credit, Hofferson didn’t back down even as he winced in pain. “She should be with the Garrison in town.” 

“The Garrison isn’t trustworthy.” Brandeis countered.

Hofferson yanked his hand out of his grip. “You have no evidence. Only unjustified suspicion.” Hofferson turned to Historia, leaning close to her ear. “You might trust this man now, but you don’t know what he’ll do to you if he was aware… Hmm?”

Historia closed her eyes, her face suddenly blank and pale. Hofferson started to urge her away and, unbelievably, she followed.

Brandeis slammed his hand against the wall by Hofferson’s head. Making both Historia and him jump. “Remind me again why she has to listen to you?”

Hofferson stood up straighter, looking down his nose at Brandeis. Or did the best he could to look down his nose since Brandeis was almost a half foot taller. “There are things you don’t know about her, Marleyan. And I prefer not to leave her at the mercy of an unpredictable and aggressive man.”

“Wow, you are really going for broke. Have you considered I don’t believe a word coming out of your mouth?” Brandeis looked at Historia. She had been weeping in fear as soon as she’d known Reiner was gone. “Besides. I don’t care what she did or who she is. I care about her intent. And that’s plain to see. Magistratusus—“

“It’s just one ‘us.’ Magistratus.” August corrected.

“Whatever. Hofferson.” Brandeis caught his shoulder and deliberately crowded Hofferson with his taller frame. “ _Alan_. I have a difficult relationship to authority at the best of times, and you are really straining my patience.”

“I order—“

“I don’t take orders from you.” Brandeis looked at Historia. “I take orders from her. Are you ordering me to go?”

She shook her head mutely.

“Looks like no.” He turned back to Hofferson. “So you just listen. You are alluding to some role she played in the Rumbling right? Well if you want to manipulate my desire for revenge, you chose the wrong fucking war. Losing the South Marley civil war ended up killing my family. The Mid East war killed my friends. Those are the wars that defined me. And frankly the only thing that infuriated me about Marley getting stomped is that someone managed to do it before I could. The Mid-east is gone too; to be honest I can’t say they deserved it but I also can’t say I care that much. A real war is hundreds of thousands of sane, intelligent men coming together to organize an act of mass insanity. One scared, crazy kid stomping the world isn’t a war, it’s more like an act of God.”

Hofferson glared at him. “Is it that easy for all of you to just forgive?”

“What about you on the island? Heaping all this shit on one traumatized kid who was manipulated into being a weapon. Reiner killed a hundred thousand? So what. That’s a slow week in the trenches. Aside from the Horse fucker, the god freak, and Dolphus who I don’t know enough to even nickname, I lost all my other friends to that bone-grinder. And the ones I still have aren’t even my first choice.”

August laughed. “You weren’t mine, either, Brandy.”

Gottfried glared at Brandeis. “We’re not friends.”

He leaned closer to Hofferson. “Point is I don’t have a convenient scapegoat, Alan. I never did. I don’t want one. And I’m fucking sick of watching both sides of this try to find one. And maybe you should learn a bit more about continental politics before you pretend you understand all us… _Marleyans_.”

Hofferson had no answer to that and he wasn’t looking him in the eye anymore. He actually looked like he was listening, which surprised Brandeis. He let up on the crowding, stepping back. He softened his voice. “And now it looks like Mitras and the Yeagerists are angling for another, real war.”

“Mitras?” Hofferson repeated, brow drawn. “And the Yeagerists?” 

“Yeah, at the same time. Suspicious. Everyone here who saw the Rumbling is desperately trying to save everything they can. We probably will be for the rest of our lives. You understood that once, right?” Brandeis clapped Hofferson’s shoulder. “Where’s the Hofferson who stood up to the Yeagerists to save his people? Huh? I’d like to meet that man, before I end up murdering the one standing in front of me.”

Hofferson’s shoulders dropped. “I…”

“Even if you told me she did it herself, I wouldn’t care.” Brandeis said.

Hofferson finally looked up. “Do you stand by that? Do you think all of you will?” He tilted his head at the rest of the infantry.

“He’s right. As loathe as I am to agree with Brandy on anything…” Gottfried stepped over to Brandeis’ side. “It was act of God. No point assigning blame.”

August lifted his hands, grinning. “I go where they go.”

Hofferson closed his eyes. “If Mitras is moving then I have to talk to Armin.”

Brandeis looked at him speculatively. “I’ll take you to him.”

Hofferson looked like he was about to protest, then he just nodded.

Brandeis said. “August take care of Historia.” He caught her head, rubbing her hair. “Don’t let people boss you around, kid. You should be bossing us around.”

When he dropped her hand, she looked up at him with such awed relief that it made him feel like he was choking on his own heart. He coughed to ease it and caught Hofferson’s arm. “Let’s go.”

—Alliance Town - Great House Arlert's Office —

“Mikasa. I am not in a position to throw away all of my other responsibilities to save Eren again.” Armin’s voice was low. “There's no point arguing." 

Levi glanced between the two of them.

Mikasa looked lost. “Erwin would go after him—“

"Hey, brat." Levi warned.

Armin closed his eyes. He knew Mikasa wasn’t intending to be hurtful. Although it was a wound that was no longer particularly painful. “Erwin would sacrifice everything because he was the Survey Corps commander. And everyone was convinced we had no future without Eren. I’m not Erwin, I’m never going to be. And frankly I don’t need to be. This is a different world. What Erwin would do is irrelevant.” 

“Let me go then.”

Armin walked over to her and held her arms. “Look. I want him back too. But we need more information first. For starters, Levi’s right, Reiner is almost impossible to capture unless he allows it. So there’s some reason why he’s agreed to go with them. We don’t know what that reason is. Going after him now risks whatever outcome he’s avoiding. We have to trust his judgement. Again. I know, that seems counter-intuitive now since he made a mistake in judging their intent.” He leaned closer. “And are you going to ignore what he asked you to do? Protect Historia?”

Mikasa finally dropped her gaze. 

Armin hugged her. He was now tall enough to lean his head against her crown. "I want him back too. He's my friend." After a moment she held him back and they stood like that for a full minute. Mikasa slowly relaxed, "Alright."

Armin felt relief, “Thank you.”

She let him go and left the room silently. Armin watched her go, his throat aching, hoping he'd made the right choice. He leaned against his desk, suddenly exhausted. He felt Levi watching him and glanced up. The Captain raised an eyebrow. “You need some rest, Arlert.” Levi patted his shoulder and then followed Mikasa.

Armin closed his eyes. His exhaustion had deepened into something almost paralyzing.

The door opened. Hofferson entered. Or rather was pushed in by one of Reiner’s Captains. Armin took a moment to put name to face: Brandeis Fuchs.

Fuchs let Hofferson go, grinning at the man as he walked past. “I’m going to put a good word in for you.” He stepped up to Armin, giving him a Marleyan salute.

Armin returned it. “At ease. What’s this?”

“Whatever he’s about to confess to, he did it because he was worried the Infantry was going to turn on Historia if we found out her secret, Duovir.” Fuchs leaned closer, conspiriatorially. “I’ve guessed what it is and I don’t care.”

“Alright thank you. Dismissed. Actually, stay at the door.” Armin waved Hofferson to take a seat as Fuchs moved to stand by the door. “So. What did you want to tell me?”

— Alliance Town: Great House Foyer—

Mikasa stepped over to Historia, shyly. “It’s been a long time.”

Historia turned, “Hi!” She caught Mikasa’s chest, hugging her. “It’s great to see you again!” She pushed her to arm’s length. “This is an infantry uniform!”

“I’m a Captain. Reiner…” Mikasa seemed to choke over the name. Historia looked at her in concern. Mikasa shook her head and plowed on. “Reiner ordered me to guard you.” 

“Okay. Well thank you.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say. The whole situation was unreal. She’d been in shock when she found out; then cried. She knew Mikasa must have grown closer to Reiner over the last three years because she’d overheard her arguing with Armin about mounting an immediate rescue. It made her feel guilty for being upset. She really didn’t have the right: Reiner had real friends. “Were you close with Reiner?” She asked finally.

Mikasa blushed. “You could say that.”

Historia glanced at her strangely; The Mikasa she remembered didn’t answer questions evasively—and blushing over Reiner? “Are you two—?”

Mikasa’s eyes widened. “It’s not like that!”

“Okay. I believe you.” She sat back down in the chaise, pulling her knees to her chest and folding her arms over them. “Even if you were, it’s not like I have a right to stop you.”

Mikasa looked frantic for a split second, as if she’d been put on the spot and didn’t know what to say.

Historia slapped Mikasa’s shoulder lightly. “Forget I asked.”

“Here you go.” August handed Historia a cup of water. “I got one for you too, Captain Ackerman. So you’re the Queens Guard now. You should get a promotion.” He grinned, sipping his own cup.

“Bradeis said that the South Marleyan civil war killed his family.” Historia asked after a few sips. “I don’t know anything about him.”

“Brandeis said that? Well, I suppose in a manner of speaking it did. Or at least us not winning it the first time ended up killing his family. He was in the fourty-second South Marleyans just at the start of the Mid East war with me. He served six months on the front lines before we met Reiner. He likes to say he volunteered. I guess you could call it that. A few years before the war started he got married. I mean, he got a girl pregnant and they got married. I always thought she was too fragile for him. Figured he’d end up with a more robust woman, like an Amazon.” August winked at Mikasa who stared up at him in confusion. “But love works in mysterious ways I guess. He was really starting to calm down too.

"In South Marley the distinction between Eldian and Marleyan is a legal definition based on how many Eldian ancestors you have. At the beginning of all this you were Eldian if you had one grandparent that was Eldian. That was the one fourth rule. Over the years they restricted it more and more. One grandparent, then one great grandparent, like that. You want to know how much Eldian Brandeis has in him? He's one thirty-second. He has one great-great-great grandparent who was Eldian. His father was full Marleyan and he married his mom under the one eighth rule.

"This has been an ongoing mess for almost a century now. It's hard to explain how shitting angry all of South Marley was over this.”

Gottfried grunted at August swearing.

“Oh sorry. How shit fucking angry South Marley was over all this. Anyway. Just as Brandeis had married a Marleyan girl and was about to have a kid - the Party decided to scrap plans for the sixteenth exemption and jump right to the thirty-second. Really bad timing. It broke up Brandeis' family. Not just his wife and him, his parents too. His father wouldn't be able to live with his mother anymore. And Brandeis wouldn't be able to live with his wife.

"Turns out I was right. She was too fragile. She killed herself. Six months pregnant. Then the year after his mom died from a sickness that was sweeping the ghetto. Brandeis and his father were trying to get her proper medical care but... the thirty-second rule had turned everything into a mess of regulations. His father died soon after that. Broken heart probably.

"When the thirty-second passed, there were riots everywhere, even in the Marleyan sections of Cantata. Brandeis ended up getting involved. They accused him of being member of the rebels as well and helping plan another civil war. He probably was, knowing him, but they didn’t have proof.

"Then the Paradis mission failed. The Mid East allies were all 'Marley you seem to be having a lot of problems' and of course who would the Mid-east roll over first. Us. The South Marleyans. Since they didn’t have proof Brandeis was given a choice. He could be used as titan weaponry or... he could fight the Mid East. I've known him since we were kids. Brandeis has always been... unique. But he was never as angry as he was after all that.” August smiled up at Gottfried. “You haven’t heard this before have you?”

Gottfried frowned and shook his head. “He’s still a thug.”

“Granted.” August said. “But he’s not just a thug.”

Gottfried said nothing to that. He just sighed and shook his head.

Historia looked at August. “What about you?”

“My family most likely died in the Rumbling.” August said.

“Same.” Gottfried added.

Historia pressed her forehead to her knees. “I’m sorry.”

August shrugged. “South Marley should have fought harder in the civil war I guess. We allowed ourselves to be ruled by the Northerners and it damned us.”

“We all have regrets.” Levi said.

Brandeis exited Armin’s office, trotting across the mezzanine level above them. He called down as he passed them. “Hofferson’s confessed to conspiring with Mitras. Arlert sent me to get an Infantry escort.”

—Alliance Town - Great House Armin's Office —

“So, infiltrators?” Armin prompted. Captain Fuchs had come back with a team of infantry and they all stood at the back of his office.

Hofferson stared at the ground; he sat slumped over his knees, defeated. “There’s a bunch of them in the town and the Garrison. I don’t know how many and I don’t know their names. I just signed off on the paperwork when they handed it to me.”

“And what are they planning?”

“Kidnap Historia, most likely. They’re planning something with the Yeagerists. I don’t know what.”

“Kidnap her. That’s ironic considering what you accused Reiner of.”

Hofferson rubbed the back of his neck with a hand. “If he’s willing to go that far for her safety, he’s better for her than whatever they have in store.”

“So they were playing every single angle, waiting for a winner to side with. Very smart.” Arlert shook his head. “And you conspired with them because you were worried the Infantry would turn on her and you. But Mitras ended up doing it instead.”

Hofferson shifted, listlessly. “I would never have agreed to work with Mitras if I knew they were going to make a deal with the Yeagerists.”

“No offence Hofferson but your judgement is appalling so I think you understand why I have to do this. You’ll have lots of time to remember anything else you want to tell us.” Armin turned to the Infantry escort and Brandeis. “Take him to one of the guest apartments on the fourth floor. He’s under house arrest. Are you going to resist?”

Hofferson shook his head, still not looking up.

“Preserve his dignity; let him walk freely unless he tries to run. Then you do whatever you need to to stop him.” Armin said.

Hofferson stood still unable to meet Armin’s eye, “Thank you Duovir.” He left with his escort.

Armin was once again alone in his office. He walked around the desk and sat heavily in his chair, folding his arms over his table and pillowing his head on them. Darkness nearly claimed him.

The door opened.

“Oh god.” He whimpered.

“Armin.” Pieck.

He looked up. She scurried over. “I think I’ve got a way of flushing out the infiltrators. At the time King Fritz did the exodus, Eldia had a parliament and limited voting rights for land owners. The archive has voter records from that time.”

“Uh?”

“Land owners. The rich. The people most likely to have settled in Mitras. We have a record of their family names. We cross reference them with our intake paperwork and there you go, a list of suspects.”

“They might have changed their names.”

“They have no clue that we have access to a list of names in the interior so why would they. Reiner, Annie and Bertholdt didn’t change theirs for the same reason.”

Armin nodded. “That’s good. And we got probable cause now that Hofferson has confessed to conspiring with Mitras.”

“I think you need to go to sleep.” Pieck said. “Confessed?”

Armin got up. He yawned and had to steady himself by catching his desk top for a second. He walked towards the door, Pieck following. “He enabled Mitras to move infiltrators into the Garrison and the town. He’s invested in making Alliance town work. It’s why he agreed to marry Historia and Reiner in the first place. Mitras had a duty to the citizens of Paradis to help them when they were suffering the Yeagerist purges and it turned its back on them. It was the Alliance that ended up saving them. Hofferson knows that. He feels that. But he cut a deal with Mitras because he wanted a fallback for protection.” He opened his door and stepped out into the hall, walking towards the grand staircase leading to the lower floor and the sitting area. “That’s what made this situation so difficult. We’re dealing with an essentially decent person making stupid choices out of a fear that isn’t entirely unwarranted.”

Pieck shook her head. “How did Reiner know this?”

“I don’t think he did. I think just had an instinct that more was going on and the only way to flush it out was to flip tables.” Armin frowned. “His approach is genius sometimes. And idiotic at other times.”

They started down the staircase. The rest of the group was waiting in the sitting area. Including Annie who was lying limply in one of the sitting area lounges, staring at the floor.

Armin moved over to Historia. “Don’t worry. Reiner’s tough and he never stops thinking. We’ll get him and Jean back. Or he’ll get himself back. He’ll walk right through that front gate and complain we took too long.”

Historia nodded mutely.

“Go rest.” Levi leaned close to Armin. “I’ll keep an eye on things. It’s past midnight. I’ll come find you if anything changes.”

“I don’t know if I should.”

“If you don’t, she won’t.” Levi nodded at Annie. “And she needs to rest. You have responsibilities to more than just the town, now. Don’t forget that when your kid comes.”

—Alliance Town: Great House, Arlert Apartment--

“Is this awful?” Annie gasped. Armin tightened his arm around her chest. He breathed hard in her ear; each breath getting more ragged and threaded with low groans. She met his thrusts and moved against him, trying to find some release from her desperate hunger. Even when she peaked it didn’t seem to lessen it, just feed it.

“Awful. What?” Armin panted, unfocused in the aftermath.

“This situation is horrible and we’re…”

“I don’t think it matters. I’m at the stage where if I keep focusing on the problem I won’t make progress on a solution. Levi’s right I need to take a break.” Armin pressed his forehead against her shoulder. “I was so tired when I was out there dealing with all this shit. And as soon as I get in the bed I can’t sleep.” He nuzzled her neck. “But I can do this. Maybe one will lead to the other.” He bit her neck hard enough to make her yelp. She could feel him grin against her jaw. “Sorry. Too hard?”

“You’re not sorry. I can feel you smiling.” Annie rolled her eyes. “I’m pregnant, not made of glass.” She sighed heavily. “The way I’m feeling right now I don’t think you could possibly go too hard.”

He turned over, and she whimpered in his sudden absence. She’d never thought that her most persistent and overwhelming symptom would be her desire. That and alternating waves of nausea and hunger.

Reiner had even startled her once and in the moment between noticing him and recognizing who he was she’d had a stray thought: “He’s really hot.”

She realized she’d been staring when he looked at her with concern and asked her what was wrong. Without a word she’d fled and locked herself in her closet in horror. Thankfully it just happened once because otherwise she would have had to kill Reiner and she never would have been able to explain to Armin just why she had no choice but to kill Reiner.

It had all culminated when she’d told Armin in the middle of sex that his smell was making her sick and when he moved to stop, offering to take a shower, she’d grabbed his shoulders so hard she’d left bruises and wept that if he stopped she would literally die. He’d given her such a desperate look of “what do you want from me?” that she felt bad for days.

Although she had noticed Armin was experiencing a similar struggle. He’d always been passionate, but he’d gotten bold and almost single-minded. They’d nearly been caught more than once in his office. And the stair well. And the sitting room late at night. Jean had been staying over with Hitch and had wanted a snack. It had amused him greatly to catch them just as they finished dressing. He had teased them for weeks. Annie grimaced inwardly in embarassment. _Goddamn Jean._

“I told Jean I should have challenged Eren more often. And that I wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. And then I did exactly that.’’

Annie startled a bit, surprised out of her thoughts by Armin’s vehemence. It took her a moment to focus on what he’d said.

“You’re still on that? I don’t think you need to challenge him as such.” She reorientated herself to his line of thought. “Why do you think people follow the two of you? Because you both make us feel like there’s a future. When I watch you two work together on something other than this recent bullshit, when you’re working on building something it’s like you glow. You create this energy between you; it makes me feel like I could reach out and touch the world we’re trying to make. Like you two could just call it down and materialize it from nothing. It makes me feel safe somehow. It’s inspiring. You inspire people. Eren was your childhood friend but… you never built anything with Eren, did you?”

Armin shook his head.

“It’s something I noticed even before any of this happened, when we were in cadets together. You and Eren didn’t see eye to eye. Fighting is his first choice. Probably also his second, and third, and fourth… and fifth. You get the picture. Both you and Reiner can fight and you can be extremely scary when you do, but its not your first choice. In fact I don’t think it ranks in the top three for him or the top ten for you.

“The last time we talked about this I was sort of flippant. I mean I’m really the last person to tell you to be kinder to Reiner. He won’t resent you for what you did with Historia; but he obviously internalized it.” She sighed. “Of all the people here, he respects you most, he also takes your lead most. You’ve given him the strong impression that he’s meant to be your sacrificial pawn.”

Armin grimaced, closing his eyes. “And he sacrificed himself. But I didn’t mean...”

“Do you feel guilty that you’re getting closer now to Reiner than you were to Eren?”

He didn’t answer. She saw a grudging sort of recognition dawn in him.

“When this is all over you should explain to him what you meant when you told him you needed him. I’m pretty sure he thought you meant as a crutch or… that you got attached to a game piece you needed to be able to throw away. You should tell him you meant as a friend. That’s how you get through to him.” Annie hesitated. “Though I think you’ll always have problems restraining him when one of his… uh… harem? Is scared like Mikasa was. He’s going to identify the nearest threat, put his head down and charge it. And I don’t think much is going to stop him when that happens.”

“It’s not what you think.”

“Okay tell me what it actually is. I have honestly wanted to hear this explanation all day.”

“He’s her connection to Eren.”

“That explains her side. Does he really strike you as the kind of man who can have sex with someone for two years and not get attached? God what a mess.” She made a face. “Also, Reiner with actual human drives? The idea is terrifying.”

Armin chuckled. “Why?”

She lapsed into silence.

“I don’t think he’s quite the spectre you make him out to be sometimes. He’s just very intense. Like you.” Armin stroked her hair from her face. “Are you scared about this?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep.”

“Well if we can’t sleep, then we might as well make the best of it.” He kissed her ear. “Can’t possibly go too hard, huh? Sounds like a challenge.”

Her eyes widened; she shivered at the way he said it.

—Alliance Town - Great House Foyer—

Historia watched Brandeis return from taking Hofferson away under armed guard. She waved at him as he neared and he saluted her. “Back again. How are you doing?”

She hugged her knees. “I’m okay.” Then noticed Mikasa was gaping at Brandeis. “Mikasa?”

“Captain I know I’m stunning but you staring that hard is making me nervous.” Brandeis turned to face her. “What?”

“It’s you.” She said breathlessly.

“Huh?”

“You’re the other Ackerman.”

Brandeis shrugged. “Okay.”

Pieck padded over from the sitting room drinks cabinet with a bottle of whiskey and some glasses. “I was wondering.” She put the glasses on the table, pouring a couple fingers worth in each.

Historia was the first to grab one, sighing with contentment as she felt the familiar sting and warmth spread through her. She smiled at Brandeis. “Well that’s a relief.”

Levi looked at Mikasa. “For real?”

Mikasa nodded rapidly. “Yeah I feel it.”

Brandeis folded his arms over his chest. Historia noticed he looked uncomfortable being the focus of so much unexpected attention. “This doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“Ackerman are a bloodline gifted with the strength of Titans in human form created using the founder’s powers.” Pieck said. “It’s not something that’s public knowledge. I did see there were some names from Southern Marley.”

“Did you ever feel… a rush of instincts taking over when you were in danger?” Levi asked.

“Yeah, the first time I was shot at.” Brandeis stared at Levi skeptically, then leaned towards Mikasa. “So I’m related to you? How close are we talking? Should we avoid having sex?”

“Huh?” Mikasa gaped at him.

“I’m just covering our bases.”

“Why?“

Brandeis stood up straight, looking away from her. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re too young for me.”

“But, you… brought it up?” Mikasa said helplessly.

Levi grimaced. “It’s awful. It’s like Kenny’s back from the grave.”

“Impossible for you to be closer than fifth cousins.” Pieck supplied, sipping on her own glass. “This is sort of terrifying.”

“Why?” Brandeis asked.

“A race of people capable of incredible feats of strength and violence? If there’s a lot of you, how long before you’re ruling everyone else?” Pieck sighed. “No offence.”

Brandeis’ brow drew. “No, it’s a good point.” He hesitated. “Is that what this is? Are you worried about me doing something like that?”

“No, actually it’s a relief. Like Historia said.” Pieck said. “You’re one of us. We brought her here because we didn’t know who this new Ackerman was. But we knew he—you—were at the Ranch.”

Historia stood, hugging his arm. She looked up at him. “I trust you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a Brandeis heavy chapter. So I thought I'd give you all a sketch. My drawing skills are rusty and I am a messy artist.  
> 
> 
> [Captain Brandeis Fuchs.](https://imgur.com/Jeb2vea)
> 
>   
> Also:
> 
> Jean *no concept of personal space*: Reiner what do we do? We're captured by a madman and handcuffed to each other.  
> Reiner: Get your hands out of my pants for starters.  
> Jean: But they're cold!
> 
> Who knew Jeanner was going to be end game in canon? It's AoT, hugging is basically marriage.
> 
> Finally again I like doing parallels and the switch ups with Eren vs. Reiner. :D 
> 
> *Eren gets kidnapped*  
> Everyone: WE MUST MOVE HEAVEN AND EARTH TO RESCUE THE LAD!  
> *Reiner gets kidnapped*  
> Everyone: Eh, let him fend for himself.


	9. Toy Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **warning** This depicts non-consensual sexual abuse.
> 
> In 850 Reiner returns to Warrior Unit HQ and discovers unpleasant truths about the Warrior Program's leadership.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **warning** This depicts non-consensual sexual abuse. M/M, M/F, multiple. It's not graphic but it's clearly stated.

—Warrior Unit Head Quarters - 7 years prior --

“Here.” Lieutenant-Commander Alder slid a small stack of papers towards Reiner. “Take it.”

Reiner leaned forward to pick them up. He looked back at Alder. “Sir?”

“We’ll start with you filling out those questionnaires regarding your loyalty to Marley and feelings regarding your service during the Paradise mission. You can sit there…” Alder nodded at a small writing desk against one wall of his office. “I’ve taken an interest in your case so I’ll be overseeing your deconditioning personally.”

Reiner watched Alder carefully. Alder was shorter than him, dark blond hair, watery grey eyes; his face wasn’t ugly or memorable. He looked banal, innocuous. And yet there was something in his voice and the way his eyes lingered that had a predatory quality. As an Eldian, Reiner had a sixth sense for Marleyans to avoid and that sense was telling him Alder was not what he seemed.

“Yessir.” He replied.

“Go ahead.” Alder waved to the desk.

Reiner moved over to it, pulling out the chair and picking up the fountain pen provided. Alder returned to the paperwork he’d been occupied with when Reiner arrived. Reiner tried to stay formal in his posture owing to where he was but after the first hour of writing boring answers to boring questions he started to slump and lean on the desk and fidget with the pen, unconsciously tapping it a few times before he caught himself.

He felt a hand on his shoulder; he straightened instantly and looked up. Alder’d moved without a sound to his side and was looking down at him strangely. Reiner felt him stroke his thumb back and forth across his shoulder. It was a small gesture but it seemed odd somehow.

“I need to determine whether or not you’ve retained your loyalty to Marley.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll sit straighter sir.” As soon as it was out of his mouth Reiner regretted the faint sarcasm.

Alder tilted his head, smiling. That predatory look ghosted across his face. He let Reiner’s shoulder go and sat down on one side of the desk. “In this room, in relation to you, I am Marley. If you prove to me that you are loyal, then you’ll never have to worry again for your life or your family’s.” He picked up the papers, flipping through them. “You were gone five years Braun. You grew up with those Island Devils. You became a young man among them. I’ve never seen a case like this and I’m not convinced the usual deconditioning protocol is sufficient.” Alder looked down at him. “Did you have any sexual experiences with any of the devils?”

“What?” He gaped at Alder then shook his head. “I mean, no sir.”

Alder idly played with Reiner’s hair. “I find that difficult to believe.”

Reiner suppressed the urge to slap his hand away. Distracted by Alder’s touch, he blurted out: “I had no time. I was too busy fulfilling my duty to Marley.”

“You had no time? That was the only thing that stopped you?”

Reiner cringed inwardly, realizing the trap. Shit. “That’s not what I meant sir. I meant that I had no time to think of thoughts other than my duty to Marley.”

Alder snorted. “It’s too bad you only get one chance to respond.”

Reiner’s stomach sank. “What do you mean?”

“That I don’t believe you. You may have not actually had sex but you wanted to. That’s sick.”

Reiner breathed rapidly through his nose, feeling panic rise. He couldn’t think of anything sensible to say. “No,” He offered weakly.

“Don’t lie.”

Reiner’s shoulders dropped. “Only fleeting thoughts, sir.” He pushed Krista out of his mind.

“It’s okay. Everyone makes mistakes.” Alder patted his head. “But now that you’ve given me an honest answer we can start repairing your relationship with Marley.”

Reiner closed his eyes and nodded.

“Take your clothes off.”

Reiner’s eyes snapped open. He stared at Alder, who was now staring at him steadily in a way that unnerved Reiner even more. “What, sir?”

Alder spoke slowly, as if explaining something to a child. “If you take something from Marley, you have to give it back.”

—

“Hey fuckup!” Porco greeted him as he exploded into their shared room. Porco always had a frenetic energy about him despite his relatively small stature. Reiner looked at him but said nothing in response.

The instant Porco caught his gaze, his energy shifted. He looked confused and concern ghosted over his features. “The hell happened to you?”

If anything Porco’s concern made Reiner’s stomach spasm; if he’d eaten lunch he might have lost it. He grunted and looked away. “Nothing.” 

Porco shook his head. “Alright. What you writing?” Porco craned over Reiner’s shoulder to the paper on his desk.

Reiner fought the desire to cover it; resisting Porco’s curiosity would only make the other boy more insistent. “I’m writing an essay on the horrors of the Eldian Empire’s forced breeding programs.”

“Ugh. Gross.” Porco picked up his work and read it for a minute. “Huh. You always do this.”

“What?” Reiner said sharply.

“You make it a story. It’s like you’re there instead of reading a bunch of facts. Why bother? Who wants to relive that?”

Reiner grabbed the papers back. Porco had a lot of contempt for his one notable skill, his ability to articulate his loyalty to Marley. That ability wasn’t just about repeating propaganda, it required creativity and wit to make repeating propaganda sound compelling. That’s what he was good at, weaving a story. When he applied it to Marley’s propaganda that skill made something old and worn sound progressive and inspirational. Throughout his childhood his words had been his only weapon and he’d gotten very good at using them. He was proud of his ability to make something into a compelling story.

“I need to get this done.” Reiner groused, pointedly turning his back on Porco.

He heard the bed creak as Porco threw himself down. The smell of the other boy’s lunch was making him feel nauseous. He listened to Porco chew in an obnoxiously loud way and ended up tapping his pen on the table in annoyance.

After awhile Porco’s mind seemed to cycle from his sandwich back to the topic. “Is this what that weird fuck has got you doing? He usually just makes me fill out boring reports.”

“You mean Commander Alder.” Reiner corrected.

“You always do everything by the book, huh? That’s why you got Marcel killed. If I’d inherited the Armoured Titan, we wouldn’t be here.”

“Yeah.” Reiner agreed. He had his doubts the outcome would have been that different, because he doubted Marcel wouldn’t have sacrificed himself for Porco, but he also knew what Porco really wanted was an argument—because what Porco really, really wanted was his brother back—and he didn’t care to argue.

Porco sucked his teeth, looking pissed at Reiner’s submission. He ran his fingers through his hair. “And you wouldn’t be writing disgusting essays for Commander Creepy.” He concluded finally.

“Yes, Porco, everything is my fucking fault.” Reiner snapped. “Including having to…” He choked and then had to cough to continue. “Including reporting to Commander Alder.”

Porco’s eyes widened. “Jovus. Chill.” He rolled out of bed. “Here. I got this for you because you missed lunch.” Porco dropped an apple on Reiner’s desk. “I can’t stand it when you’re in this kind of a mood.” He shoved his hands in his jacket and stalked out.

Reiner glared at Porco’s back and then pounded his fist on the desk when the other boy was gone. “I’m not the one in a mood, you walking hormone!”

Porco would have loved to hear that, because then he’d have an opening for an argument. Early on Reiner had given him the fight he wanted but as the weeks had dragged on, he’d just felt more and more apathetic.

That first meeting with Alder had felt surreal, like he dreamed it maybe. He knew he couldn’t completely trust his own mind, not while he was still healing at least: The Army psychologist he’d been assigned to assured him that he would get better. He still couldn’t entirely bring himself to believe it had happened.

Alder’d ordered him to strip. After that he’d hadn’t touched Reiner except to force his hands to his sides, instead of allowing him to retain some meagre dignity. As Alder had watched him steadily, Reiner’s skin got hot and he felt sick, after awhile he’d started to tremble. He got the strong impression he was being tested to see how he reacted.

He didn’t know for sure if it was a demonstration of his loyalty or just Alder using him. Because he didn’t know he also didn’t know if reporting the behaviour would get him in further trouble. Alder was the final test he had to pass to prove that he was loyal to Marley; that alone made the situation impossible to navigate. Except one way. Alder’s way.

When he was done whatever test that had been, Alder’d given him the assignment and set up their next appointment for a week later.

The week was up. Reiner glanced at the clock in his room: It was nearly the hour too. He turned back to his work and finished the essay, anxiety flushed hot and cold through him.

The Warrior training grounds was a blur as he navigated back to Alder’s office. He paused for a moment in front of Magrath’s; maybe he could take a risk and report it. But he was almost certain it would be considered sedition to question Alder. 

He walked on.

Alder said nothing as he entered. “Sir.” Reiner moved to the Commander’s desk.

For a long time he was ignored while Alder completed writing something out in the folio he kept on his desktop. Then Alder glanced up and waved to the chair in front of his desk.

Reiner set his essay down on Alder’s desk and sat.

He waited, back ramrod straight, for a long time while Alder finished whatever he was doing and then began reading his essay. Reiner hated being still for so long; he’d rather be out running or practicing hand-to-hand combat with Porco. They got along best when they were trying to beat the shit out of each other.

Finally Alder finished and he nodded, satisfied. “You get a real sense of the impact of this atrocity. Excellent work. Now I know you understand what you will be doing.”

“Doing sir?”

Alder smiled and it felt like that smile was creeping up and down Reiner’s skin.

Reiner’s throat closed off as he realized he had only made things worse by somehow making himself more enticing.

“It’s time for you to give back what you stole.”

—

“Please repeat your experience during the battle of Shinganshina.” The Warrior’s army psychologist instructed. The man’s brown eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled gently, urging Reiner onward.

“I…” Reiner closed his eyes, trying to relax into the couch. Sitting or lying on soft surfaces unnerved him, like he might suffocate. He coughed.

“Are you uncomfortable?”

Reiner nodded. “Can I sit on the floor?”

The psychologist nodded. “Where-ever you feel at ease.”

He scooted out of the couch and sat crosslegged on the floor, his back against the harder front of the couch, he tapped his fingers nervously on his calf. The sedatives slowly took effect and his fingers stilled. He let his head drop backwards against the seat of the couch. He felt woozy but relaxed and unguarded.

“I lost my memory of the previous attack, I think. That’s why they were able to surround me…” Reiner began, and then continued to describe the entire battle in as much detail as he could. The Psychologist had been giving him sedatives and making him repeat the experiences he found traumatizing over and over again, until he was able to talk about them without getting sucked in to the hyper awareness and overwhelming sensations that distorted his sense of place and self. But it wasn’t all good, the psychologist regarded any hint of sympathy for the Island Devils as a mental illness, which unsettled him. He learned to only talk about it in the context of fixing his fractured memories. He never mentioned Krista to anyone.

Slowly his work with the psychologist had started to knit him back together… Then he’d be given back to Alder and the Commander would tear him apart again.

It’d been a month since Alder had started his… special deconditioning. Reiner was sure now that it had nothing at all to do with proving his loyalty and he’d just managed to sink into an un-lanced pocket of pus in the Military hierarchy. All Eldians knew they existed; places where their expectation to pay for their past crimes led to exploitation that had nothing to do with anything but some Marleyan getting an outlet for their sick desires.

In the face of it Reiner had tried to disappear into that special place all Shifters had. Over time a shifter’s body started to feel like nothing more than a wagon made of meat, a strange, smaller echo of what it felt like to control a titan. Like they weren’t a person as such but a loose constellation of thoughts haphazardly dumped into a sloppy pile of flesh. That distance from their own physical self allowed them to endure the horrors of being a shifter.

He knew that madness infected him most of all because his healing powers were unreal, even for a titan shifter. He’d survived having his stomach ruptured open, dismembered, nearly decapitated, losing the top half of his head, turned into paste and more. Each time recovered it felt like he stopped identifying with his body a little bit more for his own sanity’s sake.

Alder never let him take the passive role once. If Alder had just wanted him to bottom, he could have escaped into that place where his body disappeared from consideration. That place he went whenever he’d otherwise had to feel his eyeballs grow back or his fingers and toes pop out of a socket made of flesh.

But no. Alder always made him take an active role. He always made him perform which meant he always had to be present enough to perform.

“How are you feeling?” The psychologist asked, jarring Reiner out of his thoughts.

“Wha…” Reiner swallowed his nausea, blinking and stunned for a moment. “A bit better.”

“That’s good. You’re doing an excellent job keeping with it.” The psychologist said. He poured water from a pitcher on his desk into a cup and handed it to Reiner who took it and gulped it down. “When you’re done and feel ready, please repeat your experience at Shinganshina again for me.”

—

Reiner handed his psychological assessment to Magrath every week on Friday. They all said the same thing: ‘not fit for duty’. By the second month after he’d returned it started to baffle the psychologist that he wasn’t making the expected progress. Every Friday Alder would send a request to report and Magrath received both the assessment and the request with an anger so palpable Reiner could feel the pressure of it in his back teeth. Magrath never said anything, just folded his arms over his chest and bowed his head, eyes closed. And then, after a moment, he’d sign the request with an intense and focused violence.

Reiner realized the first time he saw Magrath angry that he must know, or suspect, what was going on with Alder but either couldn’t or wouldn’t do anything. At that realization, Reiner’s last hope for intervention ended.

From the beginning Alder had been obsessed with Eldia’s forced breeding of Marleyans. Rationally Reiner knew it was all part of this disturbed fantasy he had constructed, fetishizing his own ancestors sexual subjugation at the hands of Eldia. In the beginning Alder had used him privately, then involved his wife, his friends, finally four months after it began he started to involve younger women. Not as young as Reiner, they were all civilians in their twenties. They could have walked out any time because they had freedom he never would. The women were there because they were all excited to enjoy something sordid and taboo-breaking and he was merely a vehicle for their fun.

The fact they were young and attractive should have made it easier, instead it made it worse.

From the moment the horror had begun, it had been escalating, the first taboo just a thin layer of ice over a deep fissure of murky, freezing water. When it broke they all fell through and just kept sinking further into the numbing dark: too paralyzed to escape and yet more and more punch drunk for having gotten away with it.

But with younger women, the talk of forced breeding shook him to his core. It horrified him as much as his memories of killing Marco and it left him with a raw sense of helplessness so deep he couldn’t think straight. He had no idea how far they would take it and that terrified him.

He started to have new nightmares about fathering a child he could never touch who would be stuck in a cage for the rest of her life. He started to flirt more aggressively with the men or tried to get them to fight over him, anything to keep him from having to touch the women. He also started puking after every meal, eventually he stopped eating entirely. After a week and a half he’d lost fifteen pounds. It was drastic enough that Magrath called Reiner into his office and spent an hour prying the truth out of him. He finally refused Alder’s request for report. Eventually Alder had come by to press the point.

Reiner had made himself as small as possible as he sat outside Magrath’s office. The shouting finally got to the level he could hear their argument from across the room, which was dangerous. He glanced around for anyone else who could be over-hearing it. For some reason the building was deserted, as if everyone had felt this particular storm coming and scarpered.

“I don’t care. If you continue I’m going to bust this open. You might get away with fucking him yourself or him railing your old bat of a wife, but you’re crossing a line with women who he could get pregnant. They will execute you for this.”

“They’ll execute him, too.”

“He’s going to be killed anyway. He’s going to the front.”

“Are you starting to feel sympathy for Eldians, Magrath?”

“That’s rich coming from a man who’s fucking one. You really think you’re going to win that particular argument? This ends. Now.”

Reiner watched Alder scuttle from Magrath’s office like an angry silverfish flushed out by sunlight. For the first time since it started he felt like he could breathe again. Magrath stepped out of the room, waving at Reiner to come in.

Reiner was on his feet in an instant, trotting inside. Magrath closed the door and grabbed a decanter of fine whiskey—beautifully golden, lit by the late afternoon light sliding through the open blinds—from his drinks cabinet along with two glasses, then set it on his desk and poured several fingers worth into each glass. He waved at Reiner to sit and set the glass down in front of him.

Magrath drank his whiskey and stared out the window, saying nothing for a long time. “Drink.” He said finally.

Reiner had hesitated, knowing it was expensive. He sipped it.

“Knock it back. If you’re worried about the cost, don’t.” Magrath lifted his drink to his lips.

Reiner did as he was told. It tasted good; bittersweet vanilla and smokey, with a smooth harshness he found satisfying. Magrath had given him enough to get a good start making his mind relax and go slack.

Magrath’s protective energy filling the room, the afternoon sun giving everything a honeyed glow, the warmth of the fine spirits and the knowledge Magrath had given him something he valued made the memory one that Reiner would return to many times whenever things got difficult.

“Your face is a curse, Braun.” Magrath poured him another shot and Reiner drank it like he was dying of thirst, not even feeling the sting anymore. Magrath refilled his glass, this time all the way to the top.

Reiner cast his eyes down. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.”

“They’re going to execute me, sir?”

“Yes. Well, they’re going to put you on a suicide mission so they can say you died heroically.”

Reiner nodded.

“I can’t contravene their orders, but they gave me some latitude to where I send you.” Magrath shifted in his chair. “So I’ll send you to the worst of it. They’ll like that.” Magrath looked at him intently. “I’m sending you to Major Parval. You do what he says.”

“Yes Commander.” 

Magrath let him sit in his office throughout the evening and Reiner drank expensive whiskey untill he passed out. When he woke up—Magrath was shaking him gently—his Commander had motioned him to follow and he walked with him to the small double room apartment in the Officer’s Baracks that Magrath used when he stayed late to finish paperwork.

“I know you and Gilliard don’t get along, so you can stay here for now.” Magrath said, pointing to his couch. He then took off his jacket and boots, put them in his closet, took out a blanket.

As Magrath handed the blanket to Reiner, he seemed to be unable to look him in the eye. “That man should be in jail.”

Magrath disappeared into the other room, closing the door. Reiner stared at the door for a long time, astounded at the shame on Magrath’s face.

Reiner ended up curling up on a rug by the radiator because the couch was uncomfortably soft and he was shivering from the cold, even though it wasn’t that cold. For some reason he thought of Krista touching him as she bound his wound at castle Utgard. Usually when he thought of her his mind would very quickly move from the brush of her fingers on his arm making him shiver to him touching her back making her shiver, but now the thought made him feel ill. He ended up crying himself to sleep without really comprehending why he was crying.

Magrath ended up surreptitiously slipping him flasks of hard liquor so he could sleep while he waited for his deployment go-ahead. If he’d ever told Gottfried later on he would probably be horrified, but the Commander had nothing else he could do for him but give something to help him forget.

Magrath also let Reiner eat lunch and dinner in the sitting area adjacent to his office from that point on. For some reason Reiner could keep food down in Magrath’s presence. The weight loss turned out to be permanent however and Reiner would always remember his time in Paradise as the last time he actually enjoyed eating, even though the food had been bland and sort of dreary.

When it was over and Alder was no longer able to touch him, he told the psychologist what had happened, except he changed some details and blamed it on the “island devils.” The lie hurt because somehow he knew Shadis wouldn’t have had his hands tied like Magrath if it had happened to him there. But as long as he blamed Marley’s actions on Paradis, the psychologist was very kind.

In a month he could finally hand in a good report to Magrath, which he was unbearably proud of.

“Fit for duty.”

—Mid East Front - 7 years prior —

“Why’d you do it?” Reiner’d asked when he brought Brandeis a canteen of water. The taller man was stacking sandbags in the middle of the day tethered to a post by a long chain. It was some sort of field punishment but not an “official” one, nicknamed “pony show.” Brandeis had explained official field punishments were a lot more humiliating and painful and often demanded by Marleyans for petty infractions. Then there were the additional unofficial ones often used in their stead by the Cantie officers which were just embarrassing and uncomfortable. His shirt was off and his singlet and pants were slick with sweat and caked with sand. When other soldiers walked past some of them would hoot at him, “Hey Pony Show!” and he’d swear back, and then they’d all laugh.

The Canties like all Eldians had limited options when it came to sexual relations. Most of the girls within physical reach didn’t want to be tainted by an Eldian; so out of frustration they often turned to each other. To their credit Canties were never aggressive with him, but they often were persistent and they got into stupid fights about who got to give him stuff, like extra rum rations or chocolate. Brandeis, true to his word, ended the fights, usually by beating both sides and stealing the gift for himself, which he’d then share with Reiner. Sometimes someone higher up in the chain of command would catch them all fighting and Reiner would witness a half dozen or more bloodied Canties say, almost as one, that they were just practicing their hand to hand combat skills. If they were feeling particularly facetious they’d add a chorus of “sirs” that sounded more like “fuck yous” than respect.

Uglier conflicts tended to happen when they interacted with other Brigades. Soldiers outside the Southers sometimes got very aggressive with him. That Brandeis did not abide. He was tethered to a post for dislocating the wrist of one Lieutenant that would not stop pawing Reiner and trying to order him into a sketchy situation.

“You need someone to protect you from assholes for now.” Brandeis said, sort of cryptically, then taken Reiner’s canteen and drank several swallows, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and handed it back. Grabbing another canvas sack he started to shovel sand from the sand pile into it.

“I want to learn how you fight.” Reiner said.

“There’s not much too it. Just hit them where they’re weak harder and faster than they can hit you.” Brandeis shrugged. “Like battle. You identify the enemy’s weakest spot and you charge it with everything you have and hit it as hard as you can. There’s some doctrine shit you need to learn as well, but that’s the gist. Or.” Brandeis raised a finger. “You find the scariest thing you’re facing, charge it with everything you have and hit it as hard as you can. There’s something terrifying about a man who runs towards something that he should honestly run from. Never choose a target in between though. Take out the weakest or strongest. I’ll teach you tomorrow.” He looked past Reiner suddenly. “Oi, Gottfried!”

Gottfried grimaced but stopped walking past and looked over.

“Do you know why I’m chained to a post?”

“Because they’ve finally realized you’re a filthy animal?”

“I stole something. Guess what?”

Gottfried rolled his eyes. “My girlfriend?”

“Nah, you finally got yourself a swamp goblin even I won’t touch. Here.” Brandeis fished in his jacket and threw what looked like a book wrapped in canvas at Gottfried.

He caught it. “Thanks Brandy.” 

Brandeis waved him off.

“What’s that?” Reiner walked over.

“Book of Jovus. In the original Latin.” Gottfried said.

“You can read that?” Reiner asked, impressed.

“Yes.”

Brandeis grinned at them. “Are you going to spread your disease, Gottfried?”

Gottfried was about to respond when he was interrupted by someone shouting

“Get back to work, Brandeis!” The commanding officer of Brandeis’ company stalked over. “You are getting closer and closer to actually being crucified.”

Brandeis shook his head. “Malcolm. You know what he did was worse. You want to destroy morale, you let shit like that go unchecked.”

“Granted. But I have to put something in the fucking conduct sheet.” Malcolm lifted his stained folio. “Just fill and stack the bags. Or I’ll have to give you a real field punishment. Make my life easier. Make your life easier.”

Brandeis heaved a breath. “Yes Captain.” He returned to his shovelling.

“What happened?” Gottfried asked after Malcolm had walked off.

“You can ask him if he wants to tell you.” Brandeis nodded at Reiner.

“Sounds like it’s something touchy. So never mind.”

“Will you read this with me?” Reiner tapped the Book of Jovus.

“Really?” Gottfried looked taken aback. “Of course.”

“Ugh.” Brandeis groaned. “Gottfried’s going to marry you now.”

—

“Canties are raiders.” Brandeis said as he, Reiner and Brandeis' second-in-command Sergeant Eberhardt walked through the training field at the crack of dawn. Brandeis was carrying a makeshift bayonet dummy and some wooden weapons. 

Reiner glanced at him. “Raiders?”

He grinned. “Like Pirates. We board the enemy trench and we fight 'till we control it. The brass likes to think this war’s a game of chess, but it’s not, it’s a soldier’s fight. This is a war that’ll be won on the squad level.”

Reiner nodded. Over time Reiner had come to realize that Brandeis was very disciplined when it came to anything related to overcoming the situation as it was, not as the Marley military command imagined it to be. Any time the two conflicted, he went with the former and not the latter. There was a certain humour to it; if winning the war was the goal, then Brandeis was more responsible than the brass, yet he honestly didn’t care about winning the war. Yet the brass who did want to win, were incompetent to do so because they’d have to admit the war was a different beast than the ones they fought in the past and actually admit their ignorance. Reiner remembered what Parval had said the first day he’d come: “I hate doing stupid things.” That could be Brandeis’ or the Canties’ motto too, a sort of personal professionalism. Much of their insubordination made sense when the situation itself was considered. They brawled because brawling was the one skill that kept them alive when they cracked hell’s dome and jumped inside, as Brandeis would say. They kept thinking because once they were in they had to operate independently and move fast to respond or exploit a situation they had no advance warning for. They were impossible to control because they needed more fighting spirit than anyone to deal with dropping into hell and responding by fighting their way out instead of losing their minds

 _Like Eren_ , Reiner thought. He realized over time Brandeis was right; Marley couldn’t win the war without the Canties. And he figured the brass knew that too; they couldn’t argue with results. Not when the alternative was losing a war Marley hadn’t started for a reason.

“Once you’ve cracked the dome, It’s dark as sin, you’re fighting so close to your enemy you can smell the vomit on his breath. It’s more intimate than sex. Like fucking the devil, really. Fucking the devil is very disorientating the first few times let me tell you. You have to keep your head and your feet.” Brandeis stopped just at the edge of the field, where the palm grove started, where he’d thrown the baseball the first day they met. The sky had lightened to a luminescent blue but it was still dark and shadowed in the training field.

Brandeis squared off with Reiner and waved at himself. “Alright you, come at me.”

Reiner went for a double leg take down, a move he’d used against Eren. He knew instantly that Brandeis had let him get the throw; on the ground he took full mount and stared at Brandeis in confusion. “Why’d you just let me?”

Brandeis shook his head at Reiner, “Who taught you this?”

“My divisions’ Warrior training.” He didn’t mention his titan fights; not in public at least.

“If you start rolling around in a trench, you’re in trouble. You’re not just fighting the guy in front of you, but his friend who’s aiming a hatchet at your head. You got to keep your feet. Alright, first lesson. No matter what I do, I want you to stay on your feet. If you go down, get up. Do the same move.” Brandeis waved for him to get off and they both stood.

Reiner repeated the double leg take down. Before he could catch hold, Brandeis kneed him in the face, splitting his lip and bloodying his nose, then he grabbed the back of his jacket and hauled him bodily forward, mule kicking his feet out from under him and shoving him to the ground on his back.

“Get up.”

Reiner put his hand out to protect himself as he tried to rise. Brandeis didn’t let him, getting past his arms to kick him hard in the chest, breaking his wind and sending him sprawling.

“Up.”

Reiner stumbled crouching to his feet. Brandeis swept his ankle and he fell heavily.

“Up.”

Reiner shook as he tried to stand. Brandeis kicked him hard enough to numb his side. He rolled over onto his knees, gasping and spitting.

“Don’t want to get kicked? Get up faster.”

Reiner jerked to his feet; it felt like he was dragging his body up through sheer force of will. Brandeis’ hits were like being clobbered with a sledgehammer. He knew that he was pulling them, too.

“Attack me. Try to land a strike.” Brandeis said, giving him a moment. “But remember to keep your feet.”

Reiner threw a punch and Brandeis easily sidestepped it and wacked Reiner in his ribs under his armpit with his forearm, sending a spike of pain through his lungs. “Get that elbow in. What were you trained with? A broadsword? You use these sweeping full body motions. You won’t have room for that and you’re telegraphing your movements, that’ll get you killed. Remember, you’re fighting something that thinks too. Don’t use your fists to hit. Use quick, fast punches to distract.” Brandeis flicked his curled hand at Reiner’s face with his off hand; Reiner blocked the jab and Brandeis’ elbow hit his throat hard enough to send him choking into the dirt. “Hit with your elbows, knees and head. And stop whipping that left arm around. Your left arm protects your head, and ribs. Think of it as a shield.”

Reiner stood unsteadily and Brandeis launched himself at Reiner, grabbing around his neck and arm, taking him down with one of Annie’s throws. The force of him hitting knocked Reiner’s wind out again. Then Brandeis splayed his legs to put pressure on Reiner’s chest, pinning him.

“You like being on your back? Get up.”

“I thought you said don’t go to the ground.” Reiner protested.

“You’re too willing to go to the ground because you’re used to being in a fucking tank. You think you’re invulnerable. But I’ll take you there if you want and I’ll teach you it’s not your friend.” Brandeis looked at his second in command. “Ebby, kick him.”

Eberhardt hesitated.

“He’s going to learn this the hard way or the dead way.” Brandeis turned to Reiner. “Get up.”

Reiner clutched Brandeis’ chest to his own and was starting to angle his legs under him to heave him up when Eberhardt kicked out one of his ankles, sending him flat against the ground again and Reiner realized Brandeis had given him a nigh impossible task. 

"Are you just going to stay here?" Brandeis leaned close. "The best thing you can do is the right thing, the second best is the wrong thing, the worst thing is nothing. Get up" 

Reiner stared at him. "The wrong thing." He whispered before Eberhardt got another kick in, pounding the wind out of him.

The next five minutes felt like an hour as his every attempt to regain control was thwarted by Eberhardt’s well aimed kicks but if he stopped fighting for a second, Eberhardt would stomp on his chest as Brandeis commanded him to get up. Eventually he got so fucking pissed he baited Eberhardt into invest into a stomp and in the bare second between Eberhardt lifting leg and setting it down, he managed to set up his escape, thrusting his hips and rolling Brandeis over. As soon as he was free, he wrenched himself out of Brandeis grip and sprang back to his feet, gasping for breath. His chest throbbed but he didn’t dare heal. Not in front of Eberhardt.

A cheer went up.

He glanced back; While he’d been occupied with his fight, a small crowd of soldiers had gathered. They watched expectantly, talking excitedly among themselves.

Brandeis smiled at him; even though he’d lost the position he was up on his feet even quicker than Reiner. “Every time you go down to the ground, Ebby’s going to kick you. Pain is a good teacher.”

As the sun arced towards noon, a sweaty listlessness settled over the assembled soldiers. Reiner had taken off his over shirt, exhausted by the heat and the pain from a beating he wouldn’t use his powers to heal. His eyes were bleary, his face and chest streaked with blood and every breath he took sent razors through his gut and more bloody spittle splattering the sand below his feet. Despite it, he was keeping his feet more and more with Brandeis’ take downs and strikes, avoiding or blocking them or simply fighting harder to stay upright when he caught one.

At some point he ended up on the ground again, Brandeis moved his foot back for a kick, Reiner swung his body and caught it before it hit, charging to his feet and sending Brandeis falling backwards into the dirt, all before Eberhardt had a chance to get close. Brandies twisted his foot out of Reiner’s grip as he fell, tumbling over his shoulder and sprang back to his feet with a wide grin. “Good. You got up and took me down.”

Another cheer went up. Reiner could hear chatter as the Canties speculated on the ‘new kid.’

“Your endurance is incredible, Angel.” August called. “I feel like I’m going to die just sitting here watching you.”

Reiner didn’t take his eyes off of Brandeis but he laughed.

Brandeis stood up from his fighting crouch and walked over. “Alright that’s good. Let’s take a break.” Brandeis patted Reiner’s cheek. “I can see it in your eyes. You are starting to learn the importance of staying on your fucking feet. Once you’re on the ground you might as well be in a grave. Get some water, we’ll do the real work next.”

Reiner walked over to August, who’d sat on a towel in the sandy scrub, with a bandana wrapped around his head and a fan made of a folded newspaper in his hand. August handed him a canteen as he neared.

Reiner took it and sat by him, taking several gulps of water. Brandeis used some of the same moves as Annie but he focused more on strikes and less on groundwork, and as terrifying as she had been, somehow the thought of Annie facing Brandeis scared Reiner even more. There was something horrifically savage about the man. Reiner felt sorry for the Mid East soldiers.

“He’s like a God of hand-to-hand combat.” August said. “He teaches everyone in his platoon how to fight and work together in a fight.” He jerked his head at the audience, now dozens strong. “And then the rest of them come to watch because there isn’t a better teacher than him.” August grinned. “The idiots above us insist that this war will be won with bayonets and rifles. It’s actually going to be won with knives and bludgeons and knuckle-dusters.”

—

By the time Reiner was a year on with the Southers—half way to nineteen—his face finally matched his eyes; it’d grown longer and leaner, his cheeks and jaw more prominent as he lost every ounce of baby fat that had rounded his features. He’d grown taller as well, and thinner. Now people would stare but they wouldn’t approach him. He appreciated being left alone by soldiers from the other Brigades, but sometimes he missed the goofiness of the Canties’ ridiculous courting. It had become an opportunity to laugh and escape the feeling of death breathing down your neck.

He’d got a new nickname too: Angel Dog. It came from his habit of always being a step behind Brandeis and because the others picked up a sort of contradiction in his nature. He was usually quiet and mild, but in battle he was as brutal and unrelenting as Brandeis. If they asked for his real name he used his uncle’s, Michael. Michael Braun. No one recognized him, no one pried; it was like Paradis all over again, he had walked away from who he’d been.

They had added “Dog” for another reason. When they went on leave and hit the bars he learned that he was good at pulling girls. Very good. Better than Brandeis, which had annoyed him. He was indifferent to the outcome so he came across as supremely confident. He was good-looking, which he recognized in a distant way, like he recognized that the Earth was the third planet around the sun. He’d learned to be superficially charming and manipulate people’s sexual interest just to be able to survive his time with Alder and Alder’s even nastier friends.

The first girl he picked up, a little after he turned eighteen, he did it because he wanted to have his mind go to somewhere else besides Commander Alder whenever the others started talking about their sexual exploits. And he needed to be able to tell himself that his first time with a woman was something other than fucking Mrs. Alder and being beaten by her husband if he looked nervous or hesitated or otherwise deviated from their expectations for him as their Eldian bull.

He was too drunk and he remembered almost nothing, but it served its purpose as a block to his darker memories. The next morning he thought about Krista again without knowing why; a stray thought that if he had sex with her at Castle Utgard and she’d gotten pregnant, the child would be born now. Instead of crying, he got up from laying down on the bed in the house where he was billeted, walked into the town square and picked a fight with another soldier over some girl he didn’t care about.

After that he’d find a woman periodically to remind himself that sex was a disappointment, he didn’t care and he hadn’t lost out on anything.

He always chose Marleyan girls because there was no future with them. He could pull them easily, a fact which flatly astounded his fellow Eldian soldiers. There was a trick to it: The others made the mistake of trying to chat up a Marleyan to create a human connection, even if it was just for an hour or a night. If a Marleyan girl was at all interested in an Eldian man, it was because she wanted a demon. Reiner would give off a dangerous, sinister air, sort of like Brandeis but without the deep undercurrent of kindness that Brandeis could not hide no matter how he tried. He’d learned how to project himself to people in different ways over the years out of necessity, even if it always left a bad taste in his mouth. To Annie and Bertholdt he’d been a harsh and decisive leader; to the Scouts he’d been an earnest big brother; to the Marley brass he was a true patriot; to Alder and friends he’d been a vile Eldian monster.

If the girl liked that and stuck around, he’d play the razor’s edge of being dominating and aloof—imperial—but not overtly crossing the unspoken caste line between them, and then over the night he would up the ante bit by bit by weaving a series of intense and suggestive stories until he realized she was done in and he’d whisper in her ear, “I’m going to fuck you now,” and she would go with him where-ever he lead like he’d hypnotized her.

At some point during the act he usually find himself reciting poetry in his head to entertain himself; if they noticed he was distant and didn’t finish he made excuses, which they excepted because he learned he could hide a lot in people’s assumptions about men—or Eldians. Usually they didn’t notice because they didn’t care. They wanted their dark fantasy of being ravished by a devil. He wasn’t a person to them. If he enjoyed himself was either irrelevant or just assumed.

But he never had a complaint. It infuriated the other Eldian soldiers. He could be balls deep in a Marleyan girl, choke fucking her, calling her his slut of a slave girl and afterward never hear a peep of complaint. If anything he had to remind them he was Eldian and once was it; anything more risked both their lives. Any of the others—with the possible exception of Brandeis—so much as looked at a Marleyan girl too long and she’d go to their superior officer to demand a reprimand.

He came to the realization that he was chasing his own tail engaging in sleazy filth—trying to repeat his past to gain some impossible control over it—around the same time he had earned his place back with the Warriors and was mentoring the Warrior candidates. His behaviour was disgusting and now he had kids to take care of so it had to end. He shut down that part of himself and tried to forget it ever existed to prove to himself that Alder hadn’t taken anything from him because it wasn’t worth having.

It was an easy trade. Being around his kids was the high point of his life and it had its quiet plusses. If he took all of his little warriors on a field trip, it was obvious that they weren’t a family, but when he took Falco alone someone almost always assumed that Falco was his son. Falco already had a good dad and Reiner was too young to be his father. Reiner would joke and laugh it off with fake offence at being seen as older than he was and never told anyone that he wished it was true. Or that he looked forward to going out with Falco because for a moment he would be someone’s dad, at least in the eyes of a stranger who didn’t know any better.

When he sat in his field tent during their early missions together his kids would join him. They had their own tent but inevitably they would come in and pile up on him at night to sleep because they were still children and they wanted to feel safe. He would sit, propped up against the center post, Udo and Zofia leaned up against his sides, Falco’s head pillowed on his thigh, and Gabi on his chest, since she always won the fight over who got to sleep in his lap. Honestly she was too big and it was uncomfortable, but the first few nights he allowed it, getting no sleep in the process. As he stroked Gabi’s hair that stray thought would come back. If Krista’d gotten pregnant, the kid would be one now. The same age Gabi was when he became a Titan shifter. This time the thought just passed through his mind and left it and aside from feeling empty, he did nothing about it.

While he was growing up on Paradis, his mission had been so central he barely had time to acknowledge any kind of sexual urges. He had them sometimes, but they were fleeting, he just had to remind himself the girls were devils. There was such a bizarre, painful intensity in his relationship with Annie that he could never bring himself to look at her that way. Then he’d become a solider and his mental energy was absorbed by maintaining that fiction and leading the Paradis mission. He had nothing left over for something that was essentially frivolous.

Gradually he noticed Krista. At first he just would accommodate her presence in his mental map, in the same way he accommodated Armin’s, as a kid he felt he had to keep tabs on to make sure he wasn’t struggling too hard. Then he’d befriended a stray cat at their training camp and one day he’d found her feeding it and watched her place bits of chicken on the ground, untill she noticed him and waved him over. He’d sat down beside her and they took turns stroking the cat’s white fur in silence. He appreciated the silence and she seemed to as well. Talking was exhausting sometimes when you were making up stories about yourself. They’d always both volunteer to babysit whenever one of their Scout Trainers brought their kids and they’d sometimes do that together as well. He didn’t know why, but neither he nor Krista felt the need to talk around each other, so they didn’t.

He particularly liked watching her with horses because she was so dainty and yet so confident and so kind to something that could kill her with a single pissed off kick. Her courage intrigued him. When Bertholdt caught him, he’d say he was just watching the horses; and Bertholdt would give him a look that said, ‘you’re obviously lying.’

After one long march during winter training he’d noticed she’d gone missing and he’d run to each of the squads, asking after her, feeling a rising panic.

Eventually Ymir came back with another injured soldier on a sled. Reiner had asked her where Krista was. Ymir said Krista was fine and she’d be back soon; she was only a little behind the two of them. Reiner had gone back into the winter training lodge. He’d sat by the window late into the night, his arms folded over the sill, the side of his head against his upper arm, watching the snow and Ymir sitting by the fence waiting for Krista, his breath fogging the window.

Bertholdt had padded up to him. “You need to stop this.”

“Uhm.” Reiner had replied, noncommittally. 

Bertholdt had put his hand on Reiner’s shoulder. “Reiner, come to bed.”

“I’m only making sure she gets back.”

Bertholdt dropped his hand. Reiner glanced back. Bertholdt’s dark green eyes were worried. “You can’t change anything. You’re just going hurt yourself more.”

Later on he’d wonder why he didn’t listen. As the psychologist helped him pull his mind back together with small, careful sutures, he realized he hadn’t listened because he was starting to believe Marley was just a dream.

After that it was just more falling.

At Castle Utgard after the Titan had broken his arm, she’d cleaned the wound and decided to use her own skirt as fabric for a makeshift splint.

When she ripped her skirt, it was like a shell exploded inside him.

As a shifter his body never really felt like his, he went to bed one night a scrawny brat and woke up a fifteen meter tall monster. Puberty was a less weird echo of that. He went to bed one night a scrawny brat and woke up a young man. Aside from how it impacted his mission, it was otherwise irrelevant.

Five years of suppression and denial broke to pieces in that moment and he realized just how profoundly he had changed. He had a new, powerful master—desire—and in that moment it was kicking the shit out of duty.

She completed her ministrations and he managed a bit of stilted conversation with the others and then said he had to go to the bathroom. He knew Bertholdt was watching him as he left and he knew Bertholdt knew why he needed to leave so suddenly but he was too desperate to care. His mouth was dry as dust, his hands were shaking as he left for the room he and Ymir had found the cans of herring.

His desire for her made a weird bookend with Marco’s death. He split apart over Marco and came to some shaky truce with himself over her because it was rooted deeper than any of the stories he told himself. His mind cycled rapidly between both sides of his psyche, forming a strangely unified but contradictory perspective.

He closed the door to the room and turned around, leaning his head and shoulder back against it. He thought of her soft, white thighs, revealed when she lifted her skirt and ripped it. He felt ashamed for being aroused by her unselfconscious actions to take care of him and that bled into feeling ashamed for being attracted to an Island devil and then into feeling horror that he would have to kill her. Finally he escaped into the reality that they were both just going to die, right there, right then.

He’d dropped to his knees because his legs were shaking so hard from his confusion, fear and arousal. It was then, curled up on his knees, head pressed to the door that he realized he could smell her on the fabric of the dress she’d used to bind his arm.

Arousal won. With left hand he awkwardly unbuttoned his pants. He closed his eyes and imagined sliding his hands up her thighs. He remembered her touching him that day Sasha had suggested it; her fingers sliding up his stomach. He’d spent most of that night doing exactly what he was doing that filthy storage room in castle Utgard. As he groaned deep in his throat, he thought of making her cry out too. He barely knew what he liked much less a girl, but he definitely ask her and do whatever she wanted. He imagined her flushed, panting, squirming against him and the thought did him in. As he peaked, a thought ran through his head: _If I was with her now and got her pregnant, I'd have to stay. That's how it works, right? I'd have no choice but to stay._

In the aftermath, as he waited for his breathing to calm down and his skin to stop feeling overheated, he stared at the mess he’d made and felt shame. That wasn't how it worked. He hid his eyes behind his hand and wept from the strength of it. Everything he was feeling was wrong. Everything he was doing was wrong.

Back in Marley after Alder he sometimes hated her because her existence was proof that what he told himself was a lie: Alder had taken something from him that he had wanted to keep. He hated her because she was the one person he would have chosen, willingly, before Alder got his claws in. She was proof he was not a demon; proof that Alder had forced something on him, not discovered what he already was. As much as he didn’t want to be that thing, he wanted to be Alder’s fucking victim even less.

Worst of all if Alder’s prurient interest in him hadn't stopped the man from going further in his questioning and he'd have realized his suspicions had been right. If he’d been less corrupt, he would have been more effective because he would have discovered Reiner’s secret and Reiner was certain between Alder’s black magic and the psychologist’s kindness, they would have extracted Krista right out of him.

He hated himself for hating her for such confused, petty reasons. And even more he was thankful he’d never have to see her again. She was just a figment from his past, a girl he couldn’t have that he had been falling in love with.

That was for the best because he’d hate to have the man he was now anywhere near her.

When the Mid East war ended and he realized he would be forced back to Paradis and used as a weapon of war against the people of the Island again, he decided he was done serving Marley. As he loaded his rifle to dispose of Marley’s weapon that stray thought came back. If he’d had sex with her and she got pregnant, the child would be three years old.

Three years old. Gabi was three years old the last time he saw her before going off to Paradis. His uncle and aunt had allowed him to take her for a walk to go see the small park at the centre of their neighborhood. Just a wrought iron fence in a circle ten meters in diameter containing a big oak tree and some flower beds tended by the people in the houses around it. He’d put her on his shoulders and she’d grabbed his ears and giggled. He’d laughed too because it hurt and it was stupidly funny for no reason. That’d made her laugh even harder and grab his head in a hug. He’d plopped her on the park bench, tickling her untill she squealed in delight and then they’d fed the pigeons pieces of bread he’d took from the table before they left. He’d patiently answered all her questions about the birds and the people and the flowers; if he knew she knew the answer he’d ask her, ‘what do you know about it?’ When she asked about the wall at the end of the street that blocked their view of the ocean, he ran out of answers and tried to distract her by picking a snap dragon, turning it into a finger puppet and giving it a voice and a silly story. Eventually that got her laughing again.

Three years old, Reiner thought as reached down for the rifle’s trigger and the iron sight pinched the roof of his mouth.

—Liberio, Post Raid—

In the aftermath of Eren’s attack on Liberio, he and Magrath had taken part in identifying the bodies of the Military brass.

Eventually the corpse pickers pulled out Alder.

Magrath had called him over to the rows of bodies laid out on the ground and covered by a canvas sheet.

When Reiner arrived Magrath had flipped over the canvas with his boot, revealing Alder. 

Reiner had stared down impassively, not knowing what to feel. Mostly he was still in shock from identifying Udo and Zofia’s remains. The dead bastard at his feet seemed an afterthought, just one in a long line of dead bastards.

Magrath yanked the canvas corner back over. “I made damn sure he was in the blast zone.”

That day Magrath had stopped Alder was the first time Reiner had ever seen Magrath ashamed. Later he’d remember watching shame, anger and hatred clench the Generals’ face into an unmoving rictus as Alder’s mangled corpse was being carted off and wonder if his conflict with Alder over Reiner was when Magrath’s rationalizations for Marley’s actions had started to unravel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As much as I understand the desire to make stupidity a capital offence, Magrath’s willingness to get a good portion of the men he worked with butchered in Eren’s attack on Liberio seems a bit… sociopathic so I figured maybe I’d explore giving him additional motivation. 
> 
> This was some real dark stuff. I am so sorry about how dark this was. :( I’ve been sort of building up the plot to get a sense of excitement, but I figured I needed to drop the emotional stakes in as well at some point. 
> 
> Even the scenes with Brandeis are really dark in context: He’s teaching Reiner how to murder men with his bare hands in a space no wider than a coffin. 
> 
> This was more stream of consciousness and tighter focused on Reiner’s feelings and experiences rather than actions. Hopefully that wasn’t too jarring with the previous more distant focus.
> 
> Isayama has pointed to “Romance” as Reiner’s song. Notice the lyrics. Every single word is dead on except one. I guess that one is just implied?
> 
> [Romance](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0tQ7n6msgSI)
> 
> I doubt that Marley with its expectation that Eldians submit to any indignity doesn’t have problems with this kind of abuse in its military. 
> 
> Other explorations of this idea seem to focus on Reiner as a helpless victim of rape, beating and torture. I think the real tragedy of his character is not his passive victimhood. His force of will is unbelievable; it’s mind-boggling what he’s plowed through. His real tragedy is that strength of will leads him to do things that aren’t in his nature because he’s stuck in a cruel system.
> 
> “That’s what makes us warriors,” indeed.
> 
> In Season four episode one, Reiner’s fighting style has changed and improved drastically. He’s no longer relying on his armour, instead he’s using it and his body more effectively… for example shielding himself from one of the armoured train’s shots with his non-dominant arm. Also it’s awe inspiring that he went from realizing he could be one-shotted to attacking with almost no pause; that takes some serious strength of purpose and grit. It also implies he’s been thrown in the shit where he’s had to quickly adapt to lethal stakes, but in what context? Prior to meeting this advanced artillery in battle at fort Salva, where would he have learned to overcome a situation like that? 
> 
> Also…
> 
> Scout Trainer: I brought my kids—
> 
> Krista & Reiner *apparate in from nowhere*: Do you need a babysitter? 
> 
> Finally, going to go to hell for this but I find it just 100% Reiner that he gets punked out to be a power top. Goddamn.


	10. Reconnaissance Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armin practices the dark arts. Reiner finds a new way to go insane. Mikasa and Brandeis fist bump because shit's about to go down.

“Good-morning Hofferson.” Armin sat in the dark room beside the bed. The only light was a stripe of blue streetlight that shining through the crack between curtain and windowsill.

Hofferson jerked awake. “Wha—“

“Shhh. I’m not here to kill you.” Armin leaned over his knees, staring at the dark mass in the bed intently. “Sorry to wake you so long before dawn, but we have some items to discuss and I wanted to make sure we got to it first thing before we talk to the Envoy.”

Hofferson pulled himself up into a sitting position, head down, nodding. He made no objection to the intrusion or the hour. The light fell on him as he sat up and Armin could see he’d not gotten much sleep. He wasn’t that old, mid-thirties, but at that moment he looked ancient.

“I want you to continue as normal. No one but a few people know that you confessed and we can use you to flush out Mitras’ collaborators. You’ll have soldiers following you at all times but since everyone else will also have a security detail, you should be able to keep your cover for now. I’ll have you join us when we talk to the Envoy. I don’t want him to know anything’s changed.”

“Huh?” Hofferson stared at him, baffled. “You’re trusting me?”

“I know you fucked up. You know you fucked up. You know I know you fucked up. I can understand your position and the actions you took, however. So I’m giving you an opportunity to improve the situation in whatever way you can. Although first…” Armin hesitated. “First I want to talk to you about your choices. Because I find them baffling. Mitras let you all twist in the wind. They decided your survival was not their problem and you still gave them an in. Why? Doesn’t it feel like their behaviour was inevitable? They gave you no indication that they wouldn’t eventually walk away from their deal with you. And every indication that they would.” 

Hofferson said nothing, simply turned to sit on the side of his bed. He didn’t even make a move to get dressed or otherwise compose himself, just listened to Armin and looked more and more listless.

“That’s what astounds me about all this. I mean I understand you not trusting us, or even you wanting a fallback, but why did you walk into such an obvious trap? The only thing I can think of is because your brain turned off when you thought about the Marleyans. So much so that you’re willing to cut a deal with a city that’s already backstabbed you simply because they’re Paradisian.” Armin flicked his hand. “As far as they’re concerned the common purpose you’re trusting is gone, it’s every city for themselves now. If it wasn’t always that way, considering what they did when Wall Maria fell. And we’re not dealing with a single Marleyan mind either. Each Marleyan here has his own perspective; some of them hated Marley even more than we do.” Armin frowned, shaking his head. “The only reason they helped you at all by pointing you to us was because Historia stepped up for you and the other refugees from Chlorba. And this is how you repay her?”

“I know.” 

“You care for her, don’t you? That’s why you made the deal in the first place, because you were afraid the Marleyans would turn on her when they found out about her past. But they’ve held to the terms of the Queen’s amnesty. They haven’t once demanded reprisal or even sought out knowledge of guilt. Mitras sits on the richest land on the Island, untouched by everything that’s happened and they only demand more and more because they stand in judgement of all of us. All of us sinners with our dirty hands. Yet our sin was your salvation; They turned you away because they’re saints with no guilt.”

“Please, stop. I know.”

Armin sighed, patting Hofferson’s shoulder. “Did I make you feel unwelcome? Did I let you all isolate yourselves too much? Should I have done more to make you feel like you were apart of all of this?”

Hofferson stared at him, astonished. “I…”

“Well, what did I do wrong?”

He looked away quickly. “Nothing. Trusting me too much.”

Armin shook his head. “We have to trust at some point or we won’t have a future. I thought you already understood the stakes. So yes, I’m extending another line of trust to you. What else can I do?” Armin stood, walking to the door of the bedroom. He stopped at the door, looking back. “That’s all anyone here can do. Repent of our sins.”

Behind him he heard Hofferson take a sharp breath and then choke softly as if he was weeping. “Peick’s going to question you further. Please take a moment to make yourself presentable.” He closed the door behind him.

Armin met Pieck’s dark eyes—mysterious and sad—as he stopped beside. She was seated outside Hofferson’s room. “He’s all yours now.”

“So you’ve finished your vivisection.” She smiled at Armin. “We might want to put him on suicide watch.”

—22 Miles from Alliance Town, oceanside—

Sock stood on the small dock by the skiff. Another pirate, this one dark complexioned like Onyakopon had rowed the skiff into the tiny bay, tying it to adock the Pirates must have constructed ages before. Jean was surprised Sock was even tempered enough to even walk onto rickety wooden slats suspended over water.

“Get her on.” Barns barked at Reiner.

Jean snorted. “You guys don’t know horses do you?”

Reiner tapped on his palm. **Play poker.** They’d finally settled on exchanging messages by tapping on each other’s palms in morse code as the quickest and most inconspicuous way to communicate.

“I’ll get her on. But I'll need you to take these off first.” Reiner lifted the handcuff he shared with Jean. "You know I'm not going anywhere." 

"Fine." Barns brought the key out and unlocked the handcuffs, dropping them in his pocket when he was done.

Reiner rubbed his wrist as stepped closer to Sock, tapping her muzzle lightly with his knuckles. When she poked him back with her nose, he leaned close, stroking her neck. “You want to keep going, huh.” He pressed the side of his face against her neck, his lips close to her ear. Jean had to strain to hear what he said. “‘Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. Do not let your heart be troubled and do not be afraid.’”

Jean fought to keep the astonishment off his face as the horse stepped carefully onto the centre of the skiff, Reiner balancing out the weight on the other side. Sock knelt, settling herself on her knees in the belly of the boat. Jean followed after a moment, his face twitching as he suppressed his desire to gape at the insane sight.

What followed was one of the most surreal moments of his life as the dark skinned pirate hooked a lantern to the front of the boat, Barns operated the motor in the back and they skimmed over the dark water, Jean’s knees pressed against Sock’s flank. Reiner sat at her head, leaned up against her shoulder, his head lolling back against her neck, eyes half lidded, whispering and stroking her fur. Jean couldn’t help staring at the horse placidly watching the waves and the moon reflected on the water with a preternatural calmness.

After awhile Reiner spoke, “Wo din de sεn? Me din de Reiner.”

The dark skinned man glanced back at them. “Sisi.”

“Wofiri he?”

Sisi smiled and said nothing more.

“You speak their language.” Jean asked.

“I speak a lot of languages.” Reiner said cryptically.

Jean glanced up at the moon. By his estimate it took them an hour to get to their destination. It was a cove with deep water, sheltered by a sandy tombolo, a small concrete and brick settlement on the shore. The dock was long and wide with concrete piles and steel joists. Docked at the pier was a sleek metal ship of surprising size. Jean was unsettled to realize it was bristling with artillery.

Sisi pulled the skiff to the dock and jumped off, tying it to a hitch. Reiner jumped off to the dock. Unbelievably Socks rose and with Sisi stabilizing the boat, jumped to the dock after him. He caught her neck and stroked it, whispering some more in her ear.

Jean couldn’t help gaping as Sisi caught Sock’s bridle to lead her down the dock to the settlement. Reiner let her go reluctantly.

“That horse is something else.” Jean stepped onto the dock followed by Barns.

Reiner ducked close to Barns, pointing at the ship. “Is that corvette part of your fleet?”

Barns snorted. “You like her?” He smiled slyly. “What do you think?”

“How many do you have?”

“Beatrice might tell you.” Barns grinned. “If you’re nice. This is our transfer.” Barns nodded at the gangway up into a dark square in the side of the corvette. “Up you go.”

“This just got too interesting.” Reiner leaned back towards Jean as he walked up the gangway in front of him. “This is a beautiful ship. It’s a proper warship and its part of the Ashanti naval fleet. That means this is a lot bigger than it looks.”

“Ashanti.” Jean’s brow drew. “Onyakopon’s people?”

Reiner nodded. “A couple centuries ago they had a Queen that was the unofficial patroness of a fleet of privateers. It was part of her strategy to oppose the Eldian Empire. Eldia may have had supremacy over the the land, but it never controlled the ocean, so if you want to build a nation that Eldia can’t touch, that’s the obvious place to go.Once you’re out to sea, the real powers were Ashanti and Hizuru.” Reiner snorted ruefully. “And they hate each other. Hizuru bet on the Mid East during the war and Ashanti bet on Marley because Hizuru bet on the Mid East.”

“I thought Eren destroyed the naval fleets of the world.”

“If Magrath was smart enough to keep a few game pieces in reserve, I’m sure the Ashanti were too. In fact considering that scattering and never fighting a pitched battle has been their privateer's survival strategy for centuries, I would be surprised if they hadn’t just decided to give it a miss entirely. And it looks maybe the privateers brought along a portion of their actual navy. This is starting to feel more like a courtship then a kidnapping.”

Jean gapped at him. “What?”

“You don’t usually fly your colours like that unless you want to impress. This Corvette’s like picking up your date in a limousine.”

“Or maybe it’s a threat.” Jean countered.

“It could be both.” Reiner grinned toothily. “What’s the point of courtship if it isn’t a little dangerous?”

Jean stared at him. “You are a strange and slightly scary man, Braun.”

They were stopped as they entered by two sailors, both strapped. This was the first time firearms were apparent and it unnerved Jean.

One of the two sailors patted both Jean and Reiner down. Neither of them had weapons as they hadn’t wanted to give Barns an opportunity to acquire one.

The sailor pulled something out of the front pocket of Jean’s great coat as Barns finally caught up to them.

“It’s my pencil.” Jean said.

Barns scoffed. “Not much he can do with that.” 

Jean smiled. “We can play tic-tac-toe.”

The sailor that had patted him down shrugged and threw it back at Jean. Jean caught it and slipped it back in his pocket.

“Take them to the special guest cabin. Be hospitable. These are guests. Of a sort.” Barns said, then ducked away down a stairwell, deeper into the ship.

They walked down a dim corridor; Jean had to duck a little to get through. Eventually it opened up into a sitting area with a galley off to the side behind an open wall.

Jean piped up. “Can I get a cup of water?” 

One of the sailors sneered at him; the other reached for a metal cup on the galley sink and filled it with water from the faucet through the open wall. “Here you are.” He glanced at the other sailor . “They’re our guests. This way.” The sailor pointed past the sitting area to a hall of doors. When they’d gotten there, he opened one of the doors, revealing a double berth cabin with a desk and a bench along the far wall and a bathroom off the main room. The port window was welded shut.

“We’ll be locking the door because we can’t have you wandering around on ship. Locations a secret. You understand.”

Jean nodded. “Pirate business. Very secret.”

“I’ll be back in the morning with breakfast. The water from the bathroom tap is potable. Desalinated. Tastes like the colour grey, but it’ll do you. You got your cup.”

Jean lifted the cup, “Sure do.”

The guard inclined his head at Reiner, looking at Jean. “Is your friend okay? Seems a bit touched in the head.”

“Oh. Reiner.” Jean caught Reiner’s shoulder, pulling him into the cabin. “Come here.”

“Huh?” Reiner stumbled a bit from the sudden change in direction.

“He’s fine.” Jean said. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

The guard nodded then inclined his palm. Jean stepped back from the door and he swung it closed, locking it.

“Okay.” Jean said, turning around and leaning against the door. “This is a lot to absorb. So there’s an entire nation of pirates.”

Reiner shook his head. “Probably never occurred to Eren that in order to annihilate humanity, he’d have to spend centuries finding and Rumbling more than fifteen thousand islands. But, then again, maybe that’s not what he wanted either.”

“So why are they courting you? If they are.”

“Marley had me infiltrate the Ashanti privateers in order to take out a ship yard during my first year as the Armoured. They’ll hurl epithets and insult every single thing about you, but as long as you pull your weight, pirates don’t really care where you’re from. It’s possible they just like us better than xenophobic, land-locked shut ins like the Yeagerists or Mitras.”

“So they’re nice pirates.” Jean snarked.

“Hah. No. This Beatrice is likely going to use the threat of selling me to the Yeagerists to force me to do something she knows I won’t want to do. I guess we’ll find out what that is and how much I don’t want to do it.” Reiner growled deep in his throat. “I can make an educated guess. It involves betraying the Hizuru.”

Jean tapped on his hand. **Mikasa.**

Reiner tapped back. **Yes.**

Jean placed his cup on the table and glanced at Reiner. “So. We’ve been captured by Pirates who are apparently part of a nation of privateers and we’re about to have an audience with their queen, and the thing that surprises me most about the last half day is you getting a horse into a skiff. No one is that good with horses. Can I get an explanation?”

Reiner grinned. “A horse on a horse of the sea.”

“You find that amusing and I don’t understand it.”

“A boat is a horse of the sea. Nevermind.” Reiner shook his head. “It’s the Founding power combined with…” He tapped his head. “Me. I always had the ability to project my consciousness more than any other shifter. To exist outside of my body. When I got part of the founding powers, I didn’t have a goal in mind. Stopping Eren, yes, but we didn’t know how we were just trying to open up possibilities. And it turns out there’s a lot of possibilities.”

“Like talking to horses?”

“If you go far enough back, all life has one source. It speaks one language. Hmm.” Reiner’s eyes unfocused as if he was staring at something off in the distance somewhere beyond the cabin. “And it was born in one place. The ocean.”

“You’ve been spacing out a lot once we got to the beach.” Jean stepped closer. “Are you okay?”

“It’s the ocean. It’s like a vast mind. Or maybe a telephone network. It’s making me go into a trance because something is trying to talk to me through it.”

“That sounds a little insane.” 

Reiner waved his hand at his head. “I’m sorry. Armin was right, I am losing my mind.”

“Before you do… aren’t you worried about being on the ocean? That means you can’t transform right?”

Reiner caught his hand. **Can’t talk about it here.** “If we were going to escape, we should have walked away when Samuel took his nap. It’s too late now. And there’s too much to learn. Oh…” Reiner slumped against the wall. “The Ocean is telling me that it was host to the Gods’ flyting. It wants to convey something about motive.” He lifted his hand. “Shh…”

Jean eyed him. “Why are you shushing me? I didn’t say anything.”

“I can hear you thinking ‘he’s crazy’ at me. It’s really loud.”

Jean gaped at him. “You can hear my thoughts now?”

“They were your thoughts?” Reiner said, looking at Jean. 

“You just… Are you following anything I’m saying? Wait!” Jean noticed Reiner was starting to slide down the wall. “Wait. If you go down I’m too out of shape to pick you up again.” Jean stopped his slide, then ducked under Reiner’s arm, taking some of his weight and pulling him away from the wall. “Why don’t you lie down? So you don’t crack your skull if you swoon.” He walked him to the bottom bunk and slowly lowered him down. “You can rest.” Jean patted Reiner’s back in what he hoped was a soothing and not at all awkward way. “And… uh… talk to the ocean. I’ll keep an eye out, make sure nothing happens.” 

“You can bring me back with pain.” Reiner said, his voice soft and distant. “Maybe.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Jean turned around on the bunk and because everything about this was freaking him out he sat close enough to keep in physical contact with Reiner. It was one thing to be captured, it was an order of magnitude worse to be captured and have Reiner a casualty because he was going insane. He bowed over his knees, his hands gripped around the back of his neck. “What the fuck have I gotten myself into?”

He started to breathe to a count, calming his rising anxiety. After a couple minutes wrestling with his nerves he realized the thrum of the boat engine was heightening into a whine. They were about to start moving. He glanced at the metal wall of the bunk and picked up the cup, taking a sip of water to settle his stomach and pulling his pencil out of his pocket.

—Alliance Town —

“Good morning!” Historia called from the apartment kitchen. "Wake up! Breakfast is almost done!"

Brandeis started awake. He pulled himself up and glanced over the back of the chaise lounge into the kitchen. “Shit, it’s morning already? That was a late night.” He rubbed his face and sniffed. Then he glanced around. “Where’s Mikasa?”

“She went for a run.”

“Huh.” Brandeis fished in the pocket of his over shirt for his cigarettes. “I probably should do that. Instead I’ll do this.” He lit a smoke. After a few puffs he got up, checked the peephole to the door then opened it and nodded at the Infantry posted to guard Historia’s apartment in the great house. “Anything?”

“No, sir.”

“Don’t call me… eh, nevermind.” He waved them off and closed the door behind him.

“Have something to eat.” Historia laid a plate of eggs on the kitchen table. She retied her shawl around her shoulders. “I hope Mikasa gets back before it gets cold.”

Brandeis sat down in front of his plate. “Yay. Eggs.” He butted out his cigarette in the ashtray Historia had provided for him and picked up his fork. After a few bites he grinned at her. “It’s good. Last time a woman make me breakfast was nine year ago. My wife. If you can believe I was married.”

“August… told me.” Historia said, sounding guilty.

“Good. Then I don’t have to. Didn’t even last long enough to stop feeling unreal.” Brandeis smiled around the old ache in his throat. “There are a lot of types of pain in the world, but I have to tell you losing your wife and kid at the same time is the worst.” 

“Yeah.” Historia said. She sniffled and wiped her eyes.

They descended into silence. She pushed her eggs around on her plate while he managed to get most of his down despite having to swallow around the ache.

“How long have you known Reiner?” She asked finally. She pressed her fingertips together. “I haven’t wanted to understand someone this badly since Eren.” 

“You might never.” He said. “Understand him, I mean. He’s a strange one. Holds his cards close to his chest.” He hesitated. “Eren. The boy that stomped the world?”

Historia nodded; she pulled her shawl tighter around her chest.

Brandeis shook his head. “That’s quite the parallel to draw. I’m trying to think if that makes sense.”

“I’m not saying they’re the same. Not exactly.”

“I guess it’s the grit, right. That ghastly grit. I imagine the boy must have had it too… enough grit to accomplish something so huge and ugly. To set yourself to that path and just keep pushing.” Brandeis shrugged. “That took a lot of planning. Murder at that scale is well beyond me. I do what I do in the heat of battle.” He looked at her speculatively. “Why’d you do it? Help him I mean.”

“Nobody had any idea how to stop Marley from killing us all. So I decided to do this… walk the path with him so he wouldn’t be alone. I couldn’t let him do it alone. He helped me feel like I wasn’t alone once.” Historia choked. “I never forgot that.”

“And you wanted to be with him.” Brandeis shook his head. “Love’s a terrible thing, huh?”

Historia wiped her eyes. “He was Mikasa’s.”

“Mikasa? Now there is an obstacle.”

“Yeah.” Historia picked up a forkful of egg.

“You like her too?”

She nearly choked. “What?”

“Just a thought.”

“She’s a friend.” Historia swallowed uncomfortably and picked up her glass of water. “I wish I understood her better too.” She took a sip of water. “What was Reiner like with you?”

“When I met him he was a Lieutenant in the Warrior Unit. At least that would be the equivalent rank for an Infantry Officer. I was a Lieutenant too at the time. He was demoted to private while he was reassigned to the Southers. He had just screwed up the Paradis mission. And I was also a fuckup of a different sort. A discipline case. He was put in my platoon and I took over teaching him the ropes of being a Cantie Souther, a raider. We served together for two years. Two years later the Mid East war ended. When I met him again we were both Captains.” Brandeis smiled, humming. “I guess we both set each other right. What was he like? Hmm.” He ducked closer, winking. “I wonder how much I should tell you. Alright, since you were honest with me about Eren... That boy is a lady-killer. He could get any girl on her knees eating out of his hand. He’s worse than me. Or he was. That’s what’s so strange about it. When we finally settled in Paradis, those first few months before Jean grabbed his balls and finally asked Hitch out, she was flirting with both Reiner and Jean. But she might as well have been bouncing a rubber ball off of concrete for all Reiner reacted. And I know for a fact he’s not that dense. That part of him just disappeared. Like an island swallowed by the ocean. Not even a ripple left to show where it’d been.” Brandeis grinned. “Makes you wonder just how much is under that quiet surface, huh?”

“Lady-killer.” Historia repeated, blushing. “I didn’t even think…”

“He doesn’t seem the type? If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes I would have thought the same. He’s very good at trench raiding too. He’s the only person I met who could keep up with me and fighting is about the only thing that makes everything click inside me. I'm luckier than him because my own nature is dragging me forward. He just has that horrible grit inside him that has him in its teeth and won't let go. I think it's about the only thing I've ever seen that might be a match for whatever netherworld sorcery made me. Its dropped him into hell over and over. ” Brandeis mimed holding something in his hand and shaking it. “If you took a bottle and filled it with water and sand and then shook it. That’s like him. His grit is always shaking the bottle and you can’t really tell what’s in there most of the time. Not unless you catch him in those moments where it’s all settled inside him. Which is not often. It fucking scares me watching him. Knowing he has that terrible will and knowing he still has an innocent heart.”

“Innocent?”

“Well. Kind. Open. Maybe. He wants to make people happy.” Brandeis snorted. “Fucking impossible that is.”

Historia sipped some more of her water. She looked like she was considering what he had said.

“Did you hear what he did with Hofferson when he wasn’t letting Reiner send his Infantry to your Ranch?”

Historia shook her head. “No.”

Brandeis grinned. “It was crazy. He flipped a table and then forced Hofferson to hold a gun to his head and told him he’d have to shoot his brains out to stop him.”

“Really?” Historia fisted her hands.

“Yes. I have never seen Hofferson so freaked out. Nobody knew what to make of it. I honestly thought Reiner was going to kill him. But then… _that_.”

The door opened. “What are you two doing?” Mikasa asked as she entered the apartment. “Gossiping?”

Historia turned towards her. “Breakfast. I have a plate for you too! Here let me get it.” Historia jumped up and picked a plate off the counter. Brandeis noticed she seemed more cheerful; or contented somehow.

She set the plate beside Brandeis. Mikasa eyed the ash tray as she sat down beside him. “You shouldn’t smoke. It ruins your wind.”

Brandeis rolled his eyes. “Yes mom.”

“If I was really your mom you wouldn’t be as much of a moron.” Mikasa took a bite of eggs then looked at Historia pointedly. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready to go to the meeting room to receive the Envoy?”

Historia rubbed the back of her neck. “It’s not where I belong.”

Brandeis snorted. “That’s a funny thing to say.”

Historia looked at him questioningly.

“You’re the Queen. Don’t you belong everywhere since everything belongs to you?”

“We should be there.” Mikasa ate another bite of eggs. “I’m sure this Mitras Envoy has something to do with Reiner getting kidnapped.”

Brandeis grinned at Mikasa. “Feels like we’ll be getting some revenge?”

She smiled back. “Oh I think so.”

“What are you two planning?” Historia sat back down in front of her eggs and took a tentative bite.

“Planning? Nothing. It’s just an instinct.” Brandeis said around his last bite of eggs. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Historia rolled her eyes and looked peeved. “Because I’m not an Ackerman.”

“Because you’re not Infantry.” Mikasa lifted her fist. “Barritus.”

Brandeis side bumped it with his own. “Barritus.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to have to start doing part one and part twos on these chapters because they're getting really f'ing long. :D 
> 
> Imagine Armin creeping into your room and watching you breathe at three in the morning until a nameless dread wakes you up.
> 
> Armin*steeples fingers*: Now that you're suitably unnerved... I'd like to speak to you about your commitment to our shared endeavour.


	11. Reconnaissance Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reiner uncovers signs of a future calamity. Jean demonstrates the power of trigonometry. Armin continues to use his black magic. Zeke sets a new fashion trend. Connie interrupts Falco and Gabi. And Historia shows everyone that the bitch is back.

—Paths—

_Reiner watched Brandeis as they exited the sapping tunnel under the cover of a relentlessly hot, suffocating dark. He always kept an eye on him whenever they entered no-man’s land: Brandeis would spend days analyzing existing maps and making his own, watching the land from multiple angles through loopholes and fake sandbags until he knew every crater, ditch and stump._

_There was more to it. Brandeis navigated the dark like it spoke to him; moving with frightening poise and confidence, like a great cat on the hunt. Liquid movements, sliding gracefully from one moment of maximum potential violence to another._

_When the moment came, tension would ripple across his shoulders and the explosion was a savage relief, because the waiting was always the worst of it._

_They did not take their rifles; the only time they could see more than a few feet in front of them was when flares and shelling threw the broken land into harsh contrasts. Reiner had a mace and a knife. He made good use of both._

_Brandeis was always in front of him. Reiner was always a step behind, trying to keep up. Slipping into that place that all shifters had when he obligated to use his body as a conduit for violence; a place where he was nothing but force of will as he did his duty._ **_I am a weapon._ **

_As he crept behind Brandeis in the dark, he slowly became aware that someone crept behind him. When a flare flooded the land with phosphorous-bright white, he saw the silhouette of the man behind him._

_He stopped, which was not sensible. He turned, which he knew he shouldn’t do. He looked behind himself, which was unthinkable._

_Around him was a ruin at the edge of an ocean. Stone walls broken by bombs, half crumbled arches, cratered cobble roads; here and there lit by explosions in the distance, granting the ruin a surreal, sublime beauty, like it had been painted by a master of light and shadow. The quiet ocean reflected the beauty back; patterns of light swirling overtop the deep liquid dark._

_He watched the far off destruction make the world bloom and silence settled inside him._

_A shadowy figure walked past him, stirring up a faint air of reproach in its wake._

_He couldn’t make out who it was but he knew he needed to stop it from leaving. “Wait.” He went silent, shocked at the sound of his own voice; it was strange to him, then the strangeness faded and he remembered it was his voice. It continued on across the broken stone promenade._

_“I am Marley’s weapon. I’m Adler’s weapon.” He explained, trying to reason with the shadow’s judgement. Somewhere along the line Adler and Marley had become one ugly thing in his mind. “I made the choice to be their weapon. I have to live with that choice. Is there any point in reasoning with that?”_

_When it refused to stop and listen he darted after it, chasing it down the broken stair, past the dark green weeds coiling below the seawall and onto the beach._

_The wind coming off the sea made his hair string into his face and he tucked the strands behind his ears. “What do you want from me?”_

_The shadow didn’t respond. The air of reproach thickened._

_“I know I’m not a hero. The only thing about me that is worth anything is my violence.” He was pleading, now. “I don’t want to be worth nothing.”_

_The shadow shifted, seeming to bleed at the edges until its solidness started to fade._

_“Wait.” He fell to his knees in the sand. “We don’t choose what we’re worth. It’s chosen for us.”_

_The shadow hesitated._

_“Please.” He bowed before the shadow, his hair falling into his face. “If I could choose, it would be anything but this.”_

_On the horizon the ocean waves danced with the golden light of dawn. He heard singing as the light flickered further and further over the waves._

—75 miles North of the Paradise Coast—

Jean had checked every inch of the berth for any sort of listening devices. Unless Ashanti surveillance technology was substantially better than Marleyan, he decided that it was unlikely the room was bugged. It was also likely difficult to hear a conversation in the cabin over the sound of the engines.

That done, he’d sat beside Reiner as the man slept… or tranced, or whatever it was he was doing. It was not a spacious room, but the bed was reasonably comfortable and it had a bit of airflow from somewhere so the atmosphere wasn’t stagnant with the stink of oil and seldom bathed men.

At some point in the night Reiner started to scream in his sleep which had spooked Jean to the point where he had tried shouting in his ear to wake the man. But, of course, Reiner slept like the dead and in an attempt to stop the bloodcurdling sounds he was making, Jean had tried almost everything until he settled on stroking Reiner’s hair and singing softly. Which was weird, so weird, but thankfully managed to get Reiner to shut up. Jean alternated between that and watching the time tick out on his pocket watch, now and then he fell asleep and woke up with a jolt every time the boat made a course or speed change. 

When the watch hit half past six, Reiner finally roused. He coughed, rubbing his eyes. “I heard singing.” He looked confused for a moment then glanced up at Jean. “My head's in your lap?”

“You were screaming in your sleep.” Jean grimaced, tilting his head. “So I tried to get you to stop. Because it was freaking me out.” 

Reiner stared at him. “Jean…”

Jean waved him off. “How are you feeling?”

Reiner pulled himself up, sitting on the side of the bed. “Like I have a hangover.”

“Finished talking to the ocean?”

Reiner’s brow drew. “I think I got a handle on it. That was strange.”

“I’ll say. Does that happen a lot?”

“No.” Reiner looked at him. “This is the first time Ægir has spoken to me. It’s not good news. Mikasa was telling me there was something worse coming towards us and I think I understand what it is. It’s not malevolent but it is cataclysmic.”

Jean blanched. “Cataclysmic.”

Reiner glanced up at the ceiling. “The amount of decaying matter Eren left on the continent is changing the composition of the atmosphere. The ocean is absorbing what it can but it’s at its limit. There’s a balance that’s been destroyed by his actions and it’s right at the tipping point.”

“Then what happens?”

“Oceans rise. Paradis is swept away. All of the islands and much of the mainland gone; All that’s left of human civilization. The ocean reclaims it and reseeds life. A true reset. Probably the end of our species, Eldian and human, there will be no one spared. Maybe that’s what Níðhǫggr was after all along. Complete transformation into whatever world suits it best.”

“Really?” Jean sighed. “Just when I was starting to enjoy my life again?”

“Ægir is still silent. He’s waiting. Seems like there’s always politics.”

“Waiting for what?”

“For the outcome of the final bet between Níðhǫggr and the Vanir. Whether or not we start another war.”

Jean snorted softly. “I think we’re going to lose that bet. On a less cosmic world ending note: the engines are off. We’re docked. Looks like your date with the Pirate queen is about to commence.”

“Oh.” Reiner said distantly. “Yeah. I wonder where we are?” He glanced at the covered port window.

“We’re at one of the southernmost Mascarene Islands north of Paradis. If you give me a bit I could tell you which one.”

Reiner stared at him. “How do you know that?”

Jean picked up his cup and tilted it so Reiner could see the improvised compass he’d drawn on the inside. “I’ve been keeping track of the direction and acceleration using changes in the angle of the water.” Jean chuckled. “I get the sense Barns underestimates me. I’m the wife and a stupid islander, after all. Well, I’m a good wife. Never underestimate an Engineer with a grease-pencil. And a cup of water.”

—Alliance town—

Armin’s Aide ran to his side on the street, looking harried. The street was mostly empty owing to the early hour. “Sir. The Envoy is waiting—“

“It took him a couple days to get here, he can wait another hour. I have some additional things to take care of before I’m ready to talk.” Armin motioned for the young man to follow him.

Armin, Pieck and Levi and their security walked along the side wall of of brick and terracotta clay tile building that Pieck had claimed as her Research complex and Depot. Zeke’s observatory was in the back: a small atrium, adjoining apartment and outdoor yard surrounded by a high brick wall crowned by iron spikes that curved inward. It’d been Zeke’s home for three years, under constant guard.

Pieck and Levi were one step behind him on either him as he entered, his aide at his side and their security behind. Levi carried a sandwich board, wrapped in canvas.

They walked through the central foyer that lead from the front door to the atrium in the back. In the atrium Zeke was watering his plants in a robe and slippers. He didn’t turn around as they entered. “Hello Arlert. That’s quite the entourage. Should I make myself presentable.”

“No, you’re fine as you are. You’re going on a field trip. I need your expertise in politics.”

“I’m flattered.” Zeke said, holding out his hands so one of the Infantry could cuff them. “I’m not really as well versed in Island politics, though.”

“I’m sure the skills will transfer. You managed to manipulate two governments into a shitty war against both their interests. You would have won too, if Eren wasn’t better at mind games.” Armin laughed mirthlessly. “You won’t be talking to any of the players directly, but you can listen in to our interrogation of the suspected Mitras infiltrators and our meeting with the Envoy today and give your opinion. Levi, the board.” 

Levi walked forward, unwrapping the package he carried and unceremoniously shoving it into Zeke’s arms. “Put it on.”

Without looking at it, Zeke did what he was told, slipping his head between the ropes holding the boards together and settling one half over his shoulders.

Armin adjusted the boards over Zeke’s chest. He stepped back, creating a square with his fingers and looking at Zeke through it. “Perfect. Hopefully this works.”

Levi smiled slightly. “Look at that, it’s piece of shit sandwich.”

Zeke read the text upside-down. “‘Don’t kill him, he’s still useful.’ In Marleyan script as well as Eldian. Nice touch.”

“This is pretty humiliating, huh?” Armin asked. 

Zeke sighed. “I assume that’s the point.”

Levi snorted. “No, that’s just a perk.” Levi pulled out a sack from his coat pocket and dropped it over Zeke’s head. “This is for your own good.”

Zeke’s muffled voice came back. “Your smile says otherwise, Captain.”

As they walked out the back of Pieck’s Depot towards the military jailhouse, Zeke in front and Levi steering him with a firm grip on his shoulder, Pieck moved closer to Armin.

“Hitch has arrested five of the ten men Reiner sent back. We cross-referenced the names; nine were from Mitras. The last was from Chlorba. Might be a collaborator.” Pieck caught his arm, leaning close. “Reiner’s ploy to flush them out worked pretty well.”

“Why only five of them then?”

“The mechanical process of creating paper on the island is different than the mainland. It has a coarser grain. But you can’t tell without a microscope. I’ve been keeping a very close eye on our stores and making sure all our registration is conducted on it. The five we arrested all had their documentation on island paper. The others… might have gotten their hands on our paper somehow. I don’t know. I’ll have to look into it more.” Pieck smiled. “You said you wanted corroboration.”

“Well, if we’re going to go so far as to point rifles at them, we better have something more than ‘Reiner doesn’t like you.’” He patted her hand on his arm. “That’s very good.”

The jailhouse was a small, plain building made out of cinderblock. Infantry guarded the front and nodded as Armin and his entourage entered.

In the foyer was one of Hitches’ MPs. One of the survivors from the sack of Chlorba by the Yeagerists and the refugee exodus. He rushed to his feet, ushering Armin to the front of the jail. The jail itself was another cinderblock room with iron bars across the front wall.

Levi wheeled Zeke to a seat by one of the walls in front of the jail and sat down beside him, pulling off the sack.

Pieck took a seat beside Levi. Some of the captured Garrison watched her while their apparent leader—Lieutenant Kemlo—kept his eyes on Armin. He stepped up to the front, poking his arms through the bars and leaning on the crossbars. “What’s going on? Are you going to torture us?”

“Torture you? No. If I wanted a bunch of lies and misdirection, I’d just ask a lawyer.” Armin glanced at Pieck, who had started to jot down notes of whatever caught her attention. “We’re considering interrogating you, though. We’re in a bit of a time crunch, so it might not be worth it.” Armin sighed, folded his arms over his chest and tilted his head speculatively. “What do you think?” He asked Pieck.

“We already have the broad strokes, sir.” She said. “Anything more would just be confirming what we already know. Whether or not that’s worth something is up to you.”

Armin glanced at her. “Maybe.”

“We didn’t do anything!”

“Technically no. You didn’t. Not yet. However we know you are Mitras infiltrators."

“You don’t know anything.” Kemlo scoffed.

Armin looked back at him. “If you decide not to cooperate we’ll send you over to Mitras and let them decide your fate.” Armin waved his hand. “You’ve been undercover in Alliance town for…”

Pieck flipped through her papers. “Fourteen months, two weeks and five days.” She pulled out a pocket watch from her vest coat. “Oh and seven hours.”

“Thank you Pieck. Very precise. You know how we operate. You know how Mitras operates. It seems to me that Mitras will blame all of you for us knowing what we know even if you tell us nothing. And if we don’t know something, well… I think Mitras will still blame you for having been found out. They seem petty like that. But you know them better, what do you think will happen to you if we give you to Mitras?”

Kemlo frowned; the others shuffled uncomfortably in the cell.

“Ultimately you should want to be useful to us, don’t you think? For your own sake.”

“And what are you going to do with us?”

“Well, if you are useful, then we’ll likely keep you in jail until this blows over and then we’ll take you to the edge of our territory and strongly encourage you to find a place to live far away from Mitras and us. No torture. No hangings. Just make yourselves scarce.”

“They’ll hurt my family.” Kemlo said. “If they know I betrayed them. Don’t send me back, just kill me.” He glanced up at Armin. “If my family gets out, will you give them amnesty?”

Armin stared at him. “You don’t have to bargain for that. We’d do it anyway.”

Kemlo went silent.

“We’re running out of time.” Pieck lifted her watch. “We need to get going, sir.”

Armin ducked closer to the bars as if he was sharing a bit of gossip. “As soon as I walk out that door, we’re going to send you back with the Envoy. Alright Pieck.” He waved her up.

“Wait.”

Armin turned.

“Do you really know what’s going on?”

“Does it matter? Because if it does I’m leaving.”

Kemlo sighed and shook his head.

Armin smiled. “Since it doesn’t matter and it’ll soothe your conscience, then just assume I do.”

—Costal waters, North Paradis—

Gabi buried her nose into Falco’s soft down, allowing herself a moment to rest her eyes from scanning the horizon; She and Falco had spent the morning trying to spot any clues on the coast and updating the Alliance’s aerial photos. The sea wind had whipped locks of her hair free of its tie and they flicked against her cheeks and neck. It was cold and ducking close to Falco had the added advantage of warming her frozen, wind burnt face. In his Titan form Falco emitted heat like a coal stove. He smelled like a cross between that—warm cast iron, smoke—and something that reminded Gabi of horses.

The skin of his shoulder flinched; a warning that he was going to go for a landing. Gabi resumed her grip on his harness and swallowed against the sudden lurch downward as they descended.

Just as she was starting to enjoy the hot, bubbling thrill of falling, he flung his wings open and there was a single moment of weightless hesitation before his feet touched down on the deck of the Hizuru light cruiser. He flinched again to signal the end of the descent and padded over to a step ladder set out to help them both get down from the Titan.

Instead of using it, she fisted his whispery feathers in her hands and slid down the opposite side, feeling the hard muscle of his titan under the soft down. She jumped the few feet to the ground. The titan was already starting to dissolve into mist and smoke when she heard his feet on the top of the step ladder. She walked over and watched him descend. His hair bright gold in the late morning light; his eyes the same pretty golden hazel as her cousin Reiner’s. 

“Hey.” He said, as he grabbed her head and shook it until she slapped his hand away.

“Stoppit.” She grabbed him around the chest and he settled his arm around her shoulders. It felt heavy; he was solid muscle. She’d stopped growing not long after they’d settled on Paradise and that’s when Falco had started. Now he was as tall as Zeke and Pieck said that he was still likely to grow a little more. She blushed, biting her lip, remembering the thrill of the descent. The feeling of flying was inextricably wound up with her thoughts of him.

“Are you tired?” Gabi asked.

“No.” He said. His voice sounded so much like Colt’s, now. Gabi felt a twinge of pain. “I just figured you might be.”

“I’m fine.” She said a little testily. She had been, but she wasn’t going to admit it.

“Your report?” Onyakopon trotted up to them. 

“I saw something on the coast where they dropped off Reiner and Jean. I wrote down the coordinates.” Gabi pulled her notebook out, opening to the most current flight log. “It was a small dock. But I didn’t know which way to follow the coast so I thought I’d come back and tell you.”

“Thank you.” Onyakopon took the book from her hands. “We might have to deploy another boat. Take a break. Connie get them some food.” Onyakopon hesitated. “We’re switching to reconnaissance of a military target on the mainland. Apparently the Yeagerists are massing near Nedley. If that’s the case, Connie’ll have to take the mission.”

Gabi fisted her hands, glaring at Onyakopon. “I’m better than Connie at spotting!”

“Yes, but he’s a soldier. And we’re sending Falco into a potential war zone.”

“I’m a soldier—“

“You’re a minor. The only reason I’m sending Falco is because we have no choice. Now,there’ll be no more discussion.” Onyakopon turned around, scanning her log.“Go eat your lunch.”

“Yes, Lieutenant Commander.” Falco said, catching Gabi’s shoulder.

She resisted, glaring at Onyakopon’s back. Falco urged her around harder. “Fine.” She snapped.

Connie trotted over with two sacks. “Sandwiches. They’re very good. I’ve already had a bunch.” He held them out.

Gabi grabbed hers and stalked off to sit on a coil of rope behind the bridge. It was out of Onyakopon’s sight. She heard Falco trot after her and felt him sit down beside her.

“He’s doing that because I’m a girl.”

Falco snorted. “Even if that’s the case can you blame him? They don’t want to lose any women. Alliance town is three quarters male. It’s going to be a problem soon unless you all want to marry four men each.”

Gabi smiled and hummed. “Four men?”

“Uh-uh. You’re not marrying anyone else but me.” Falco grabbed her hand. “He’ll be fine.”

“I’m worried about you too.” Gabi squeezed his hand. “You could be shot down.”

Falco made a face. “By Yeagerists?”

“They’re getting better!” Gabi protested. “You know, fighting each other.”

He slipped his other hand over the side of her face. “I’ll be fine too.” He leaned in, kissing her lightly.

Gabi grabbed his shoulders and pulled him closer, opening her lips to him and tasting an echo of smoke and wind. The feeling of flying bubbled back up inside her and she felt his hands trail down her back—

“I don’t see a lot of eating lunch happening here.” Connie called from the rail.

Gabi and Falco broke apart guiltily. Gabi rubbed her arm, looking down at the ground as Connie approached.

“Onyakopon told me to check on you because you got quiet.” Connie grinned at them. “I see why.”

—Alliance Town - Armin’s office—

“Annie, I wanted to catch you.” Pieck leaned close. “I think you should stay in the private gallery when we talk to the envoy.”

Annie’s brow drew, “why?”

Pieck laid her hand on Annie’s forearm. “Armin won’t tell you this, maybe he isn’t even aware but if you’re there he’s going to be thinking about you being vulnerable and protecting you more than focusing on what he needs to do.”

“I get what she’s saying because I really don’t want you to be around that guy.” Hitch said. “Who knows what he’s going to do.”

Pieck looked at Hitch and nodded slowly. “I bet everyone feels the same. We all want to protect you, Annie. Armin is going to want that most of all. Having you in the enemy’s presence will either distract him or break his nerve. And we’re all relying on his nerve right now.”

Annie seemed to fold in on herself a bit at that. Hitch thought she looked defeated or confused, sometimes it was hard to figure her out. She placed her hand on Annie’s shoulder to reassure her. “Hey. You’ll still be able to see and hear everything from the second floor balcony. You’re already doing something really brave for all of us. Trust you to swan-dive into the abyss. I’m going to wait until I see how the Army doctors do with you before I even think about it.” Hitch’s eyes went wide. She dropped her hand and fisted both of them in front of herself, grimacing. “I’m sure they’ll do a great job! Besides it’s not like Jean and I… have really even talked about that.”

To Hitch’s shock, Annie started to cry. Hitch panicked. “Sorry!” She pulled Annie into a hug, holding the shorter woman’s head against her shoulder. “I’m sorry Annie. I say stupid things sometimes without thinking—“

“No.” Annie said against her shoulder. “That’s not it.” She grabbed the back of Hitch’s jacket and sobbed harder.

“Don’t feel bad. I’m exiled to the room too because I’m trying to keep my cover as a dead person. We can watch together.” Hitch pressed the side of her head to Annie’s crown.

“That’s not… Thank you.” Annie said finally.

Pieck smiled at both of them. “I got to get going, so do you two.”

Hitch nodded and took Annie’s hand, pulling her out of Armin’s office as Annie wiped her eyes. They walked in silence from the office, turning down a small hall with a single door that opened to the private gallery over the Chamber. The Chamber was the biggest and most ornateroom—full of brass fittings, gold paint and old wood that gave off an odour that Annie decided was what pomposity must smell like—in the Great House; it used to house the meetings of the town council when the town was still Paradisian. Annie noticed that the gallery itself stank of smoke immediately.

Zeke sat in one of the chairs, surrounded by Infantry, awkwardly trying to accomodate a sandwich board laid cock-eyed across his chest and an ashtray his cuffed hands. Annie gaped at him. “Zeke. You look so stupid.”

Zeke raised his eyebrows, taking a long inhale of his smoke before answering. “Darling, I’m a trendsetter. Everyone will be wearing one soon.”

Hitch stuck her tongue out at him as she helped Annie into a chair on the opposite side of the room.

—Great House Council Chamber —

“So you’ve finally decided to grace me with your presence, Douvir.” The Mitras Envoy stood at one side of the table. He was never a pleasant man to deal with, but Armin noticed he had a new and irritating air of smugness. “Where is your Molossus?”

Armin watched Pieck take a chair at the wall behind him to observe as he took his place at the head of the table. Today instead of Reiner, Historia sat beside him. Armin turned to look at the Envoy, frowning, knowing exactly who he was talking about. “He’s not a dog, Envoy.”It was unusual for anyone from Mitras to ask after Reiner. Mostly they pointedly ignored him and the other Marleyans and only spoke directly to Armin or Hofferson. If the Envoy was already actively dehumanizing the Marleyans—Armin sighed inwardly—then the meeting was off to a great start. “He’s indisposed.”

The Envoy sneered at that. “I’ll make this quick. The Steward of Mitras has been made aware that you are harbouring the war criminal responsible for the Shinganshina atrocity. We want him—your _war dog_ —delivered to the capital to face trial. If you do this, we’ll overlook the act of war you committed firing on and killing one of our Military Police while they were pursuing a suspect in the line of duty.”

“We weren’t responsible for his death.” Armin said. “It was a third party. And we have evidence of this. And the Queen,” Armin nodded at Historia. “Declared an Amnesty when she granted the refugees this land.” 

The Envoy smiled, lifting his hands. “Mitras has done nothing. We took no part in the Rumbling. No part in the Yeagerist coup. And of course no part in Marley’s atrocities against Paradis.”

“Mitras allowed a hundred thousand people to be eaten by Titans so you could continue to do nothing Envoy. That included my grandfather.” Armin said quietly. “Meanwhile the land you had could have easily supported another quarter million.”

“I didn’t come here to argue ethics, Douvir. Those are our terms. Hand over the criminal or prepare for war.”

Parval folded his arms over his chest. “You’re going to wage war with what?”

The Envoy looked revolted as he turned to address Parval directly. “We have a standing military of twenty thousand.”

“Yeah but they’re useless.” Parval scoffed. “Your army has never fought a war much less a modern war. If anything you should thank us for heading off the Yeagerists so you don’t have to deal with them directly.” He grabbed Capozzi’s shoulder and then Muller’s. “Do you honestly think you stand a chance against the best Infantry in the old world, backed up by the best army engineers and the only airforce?”

Muller frowned. “Capozzi gets ‘the best’ and I get ‘the only?’”

“I won’t accept these terms, Douvir.” Parval leaned on his palms on the table. He turned to Armin. “This isn’t what we signed on for. We all agreed to the Queen’s Amnesty. We aren’t bringing up the Islanders’ past. Starting with the Liberio raid—“

“Parval. Don’t attribute the Envoy’s actions to me.” Armin folded his arms over his chest, and gave Parval a firm look. Armin turned to smile tightly at the Envoy. “We’re all on the same side, here. I’m sure we can come to a reasonable agreement with Mitras.”

“This is shit.” Hofferson stood up. “That Steward son of a bitch cut a deal with the Yeagerists that’s why he isn’t afraid to start a war. They didn’t want Historia they wanted Braun all along. They’re going to use him to unite the Yeagerists with Mitras against us.”

Armin raised an eyebrow at Hofferson. _Decided to blow your cover huh?_

Hofferson looked back, undaunted.

Armin closed his eyes and took a moment to absorb what he’d said. Mitras and the Yeagerists together would be enough to destroy Alliance town. That explained why the Envoy was dropping all pretence of playing nice. “So you need Braun do you?” Armin said. “Well I’m afraid you just missed him. Because he just got himself kidnapped by a third party.”

The Envoy’s face puckered into a look of disgusted fury. “What?”

Armin laughed. “I’m guessing by your angry expression that you got double-crossed. By Pirates. Who could have predicted that?”

“Then we’ll take the Queen instead.” The Envoy retorted quickly.

“Why?” Armin hesitated. “You haven’t wanted anything to do with her except to confer legitimacy to the Steward’s rule.”

“And now she can confer legitimacy on the Yeagerist’s first king, Joseph Kettler. By marrying him.”

“No. She’s already married.” Hofferson protested. “She chose to marry Braun.”

“Really?” The Envoy looked at Historia. She’d said nothing the entire time, just sat stone-faced. “And when were you going to inform your people that you’d traitored them? It’s one thing to entertain the enemy on your land, entirely another in your bed. If she isn’t pregnant, the marriage can be annulled. Even if she is, it’s not like she hasn’t had a bastard before.”

Historia stared at the ground, her face blank. Armin’s stomach clenched. “Envoy…” He warned. “She’s already sacrificed a great deal to ensure the Island’s future.”

“Oh, yes. Sacrificed so much to bring ruin to these men’s nation.” The Envoy swept his hand over the assembled Marleyans. “This place is a joke. I don’t even know what you all are trying to accomplish with your childish platitudes about peace and forgiveness. I can tell you one thing, nothing will be achieved here. But if you come with me,” He turned to Historia, “At least I’ll let them tear themselves apart without further interference from Mitras or the Yeagerists.”

“Don’t.” Hofferson turned to Historia. “He’ll just betray us again. You told me you wanted to marry Braun for your own reasons. You have a right to have your own reasons.”

“What happens to Reiner if I agree to this?” Historia asked the Envoy.

“Well I have no idea what the Pirates want with him.” The Envoy waved his hand dismissively. “Presumably a second payment from us. But when that’s arranged, he’ll be your dowery for the Yeagerists. Kettler will decide what to do with him. And in return we’ll leave Alliance town alone. It’s a good deal. Mitras is prepared to overlook your indiscretion, Your Majesty.” He glared at Hofferson as he said it, then returned to staring down Historia, “Although marrying a worthless monster is unbelievable even for you. But you’ll be pleased to learn Kelter breeds mastiffs. So you’ll still have an outlet for your desire to fuck dogs.”

“Worthless monster.” Historia’s shoulders were slumped, her face unreadable. “Dog.”

Armin glared at the Envoy. “You’re being cruel.”

The Envoy rolled his eyes and scoffed. “The truth hurts.”

“You are addressing your Queen. Show some respect.” Armin reached his hand out to Historia.

She slapped it away and jumped onto the table in one agile movement.

“Historia!” Armin grabbed for her and missed. Her face had finally resolved itself into a recognizable emotion—fury—as she stalked over the table towards the Envoy, the pounding of her boot heels echoing in the hall as everyone went silent in surprise. Armin dropped his hand and glanced at Pieck. Who shrugged, eyes wide. She tilted her head towards Historia: _Let’s see what happens._

Historia grabbed the Envoy by the lapels and, astoundingly, managed to lift him partway out of his chair. “You listen to me, you dog-shit bastard. You gave me the wrong answer. If this town is doomed, why should I care about saving it?”

“Let go of me.” The Envoy caught her fists and started to wrestle his jacket free.

“Stay still.” Mikasa said, her hands on the Envoy’s shoulders. She ducked down to ear-level as she visibly ground her fingers into him. “Your Queen is addressing you.”

Armin blinked, he hadn’t even seen Mikasa move.

“I will go to Mitras. With an army.” Historia’s entire body shook and Armin was unnerved at the violence in her face. “If my fucking dog dies because of you, I will raze Mitras to the ground. And I will find you and spit you myself. Slowly. Up your ass and out your mouth like the pig you are.”

The Envoy snarled. “Oh really, your majesty? And how do you intend to accomplish that? You’re a figurehead, with one use. On your back with your legs spread.” 

“I’ll do it.”

Armin looked over. Brandeis stood with his hand in the air. “Are we taking volunteers? I got my hand up.”

The Envoy glared at him. “Who the hell are you?”

“That’s Major Brandeis Fuchs.” Armin watched Parvel stare steadily at Brandeis; the Captain stared back, looking confused. “A senior officer in the forty-second Southers. I think that gives him the right to voice an opinion.” Parval grinned, the wolfish look back. “And considering our current situation, lead a battalion.”

The Envoy glanced between Historia and Parval, his voice loosing its smugness in favour of a note of rising panic. “This is an empty threat. You’d be mad to split your army when you’re facing overwhelming odds.”

“I don’t think you know who you’re dealing with, Envoy.” Parvel countered. “The word ‘Cantie’ means nothing to you. That’s fine. I wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise. If you want to try to annihilate us, we’ll make damn sure it’s mutual.”

“Alright that’s it!” Armin slammed his fist on the table. “Everyone back in their fucking corners. We’re are on recess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Madagascar does not have a lot of islands nearby but I decided for the sake of my AU that I'll make it a bit more of an archipelago. Although there is a Mascarene underwater plateau, there are no Mascarene Islands. 
> 
> Also a Major wouldn't technically lead a battalion, but I figure since they're down to somewhere around ten thousand soldiers and no longer part of a larger force, they can forgo a few ranks and wing it.


	12. Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armin tells Mitras to bring it. Historia plays chicken. Brandeis demonstrates leadership qualities. Hitch gives Annie a gift. The Pirate Queen gives Reiner an offer he can't refuse.

—Alliance Town Great House, Council Chamber, Afternoon—

“I’ll fucking kill him! Right now!” Historia tried to pull herself out of Brandeis’s arms as he bodily carried her over his shoulder from the Council Room to the Great Hall foyer. Brandeis tightened his grip; it was like trying to holding onto a mongoose. “Girl, stop squirming.” 

She turned around to glare down at him. “Someone give me a sword, I’ll cut his head off and send it back on a pike!”

“You’ve threatened war on your own capital, Reiss.” Capozzi offered helplessly. “Let’s see what Armin comes up with, now. Hopefully it will be better than going to war.”

“That was quite a thing.” Muller remarked.

Parvel just grunted; Brandeis glanced over. The Major—flanked by Gottfried and August—had a dark smile on his face. Brandeis could feel his own heart thrill: Finally they might get to stretch their legs.

The rest of the council walked beside them, most in stunned silence, the prominent Loyalists staring at the ground. One piped up. “What about us, your Majesty?”

"I don't have to listen to any of you. You didn't care about me until you could use me as a game piece in your politics. You all exist because I protect you. Well I withdraw my—”

“Look, kiddo. I’m not the one who usually says this, but you’ve made your intentions clear. I think we should let cooler heads prevail for now.” He patted her backside. She spun around in surprise, nearly tripping him with the force of the motion. She glared at him as she blushed red.

He blinked. He’d done it to derail her threats, but the sudden turn from violence to passion was a surprise. _Fiery little thing._

Historia grabbed his lapels, her face way too close to his. “Let me down.” She snapped.

Brandeis dropped her to her feet to stop himself from doing something he’d regret and got some distance between them as he struggled with his own thoughts. They walked on in silence towards Reiner’s office. The Loyalists peeled off eventually; Parval, Muller and Capozzi moving towards the Great Hall commissary. August and Gottfried kept on with them.

Once they were inside, Historia slumped into herself, a dark, malevolent look on her face. “I’ve protected Alliance town for three years. I’m tired of playing nice. If they get him killed I don’t care what I destroy in the process, I will rain hell on them. I'd rather die saving him, then live saving all of you."

Brandeis watched Mikasa nod, the same dark vengeful look passing across on her features as well.

Brandeis laughed. “I’m glad I’m on team kill ‘em all. I feel like I’ve finally found my people.” Brandeis leaned towards Mikasa. “How’d she get the throne anyway.”

Mikasa smirked. “She killed her father.”

Brandeis whistled. “Wow. I’ll assume he deserved it. Now I wonder why the Envoy thought threatening you would work.”

Gottfried walked over. “Hmm. That was quite a spectacle.”

Brandeis turned to sit on the edge of Reiner’s desk. “You going to give us a lecture? War’s not the answer?”

“Well it isn’t.” Gottfried shrugged. “People might fight together to defeat a shared enemy. But they don’t come together over a shared enemy.” He looked at Historia speculatively. “To be honest I’ve never put much hope in Alliance Town. I know Arlert and Braun are very smart men, if it’s possible to make something work, they can do it. But I don’t know if something like this is possible. We’re all here because we’re running from something. Hofferson’s running from the Yeagerists. We’re running from the Rumbling and we will be for the rest of our lives. But what about the next generation? They won’t be running from anything. They’ll just be here without any reason for it. You’ll see the fighting start up then or the next generation. Humans can’t live in peace because we all want to be heroes. This place is doomed as it is.”

“By Jovus.” Brandeis laughed. “I didn’t expect that level of cynicism from you. It’s sort of refreshing.”

“Prepare to be disappointed, Brandy. I said ‘as it is.’ But waging war isn’t what this is about, is it?” Gottfried folded his arms, still looking at Historia. “You want him back?”

“Yes.” She said, her voice soft.

“Could you sacrifice me and everyone else if it means getting him back?”

She hesitated. She looked trapped for a moment, then finally gave in. “Everyone. And myself. I… I promised.”

Gottfried nodded. “Good. Then this town has a future.”

Brandeis shook his head in confusion. “You’re all over the place, Gottfried.”

“People don’t come together over a shared enemy, they come together over a shared love. You should understand this Brandy. You’re the biggest romantic of all of us. People will do anything for love. That’s where war really comes from.” Gottfried snorted. “The real reason why this town is doomed is because it lacks a love story. But it might just be getting one.”

“You think it works that way?” August asked. “I don’t know.”

“He’s right.” Brandeis chuckled. “I’m surprised Gottfried. I thought you were just a cold god-fearing bastard. The biggest romantic, huh?”

Gottfried waved him away, a small smile on his lips. “You’re still a thug.”

“But that’s not all he is.” August glanced around the room, then back at Historia. “You know this is Reiner’s office right?”

“I didn’t.” Historia’s brow drew. She looked around quickly. She hesitated. “I’m sorry about what I said.”

“Don’t be.” Brandeis rubbed her shoulder. “If you’re going to lead, you have to be willing make sacrifices. But you know that, because you have. I spent four years of my life being ordered around by men who’d get me killed so they can move their drinks cabinet two feet closer to the Mid East. And get themselves a medal for it. This is a better deal.”

August tilted his head as if in thought, then nodded. “Yeah. I would agree.”

Historia started to cry; silent tears spilling down her face.

“Aw. Don’t do that.” Brandeis chucked her chin. “It’ll turn out. You just keep being brave and fierce and we’ll do the rest.”

“No, that’s not good enough.” Historia wiped her tears away with her fingers. “I want you to teach me to shoot a Marleyan rifle.”

“Huh.” Gottfried shook his head. “It might be too heavy for you.”

“Don’t underestimate a cowgirl.” August countered. “She can handle the horses and I’ve seen the chores she does.”

“Alright. First time out, don’t worry about hitting the target. If you can fire five rounds without falling over or quitting, it won’t be a waste of time to teach you.” Brandeis held out his fist. "Barritus."

Historia bumped it with her own. “Barritus.”

Brandeis straightened. “I have to go.”

She nodded. “Thanks.”

“Just stay here. We’ll be back in a bit.” Brandeis moved to the office door. “There’s something I really need to find out from Parval.”

August laughed, following him. “Yeah, no shit. You a Major?”

“I’m surprised it took this long.” Gottfried said. “Parval always played favourites when it came to you.”

“Are you kidding me? He ordered me crucified seven times.”

“It was out of love. When you truly love someone, you don’t enable their bullshit.” August snorted. “You know what he could have done? He could have ordered you on fatigue duty for the rest of your service. Four years of fixing duck board and filling sand bags. He never once stopped you from commanding or fighting.”

After walking through the foyer and ducking into the commissary to look, Brandeis found Parval sitting at a table in the hedge garden at the back of the Great House, drinking coffee and smoking with a sandwich on a plate, looking at nothing in particular. August and Gottfried had decided to stay at the commissary for lunch instead of following him.

“I’m giving you command of the forty second Southers, Major Fuchs.” Parval said as he neared.

Brandeis sat down on the other side of the table. “Yeah I wanted to talk to you about that. Major?”

“Do you want a ceremony or something?”

“No, Colonel.”

“Colonel?”

Brandeis smirked. “Well I can’t call you Major. That’s my rank now.”

Parval took a swallow of coffee. “Unbelievable. You don’t have the authority to promote me. You never change. Here.” He fished in his pocket and threw Brandeis an oak leaf pip. “It’s provisional. You have to bring back a win against Mitras and the Yeagerists.”

Brandeis picked the pip up, swapping out his captain’s burst. “Heh. I didn’t think you were grooming me for command.”

“I was waiting for you to learn to pick your fights.” He picked up his cigarette and smoked silently for a few moments. “It always annoyed me when I’d have to listen to a bunch of pretentious Marley special forces recite their credo about integrity and honour and ‘being better than other soldiers.’ What? Do you think any soldier isn’t here to do their job? Where the fuck do you think you are? What’s noble or honourable about what we’re doing? We’re here to win. That’s what I saw in you. When someone sets a fight in front of you, you don’t care about honour or nobility or who the fight’s for, you just want to win it. You’re like me. You’re a common thug.” He tapped the ash off his smoke. “If I can give you a piece of advice. Make sure you’re fighting for a better man than yourself. The one regret I’ll take to my grave is ever having won anything for Marley.”

—Great House, Armin’s Office—

“She’s worse than Reiner!” Armin fumed, pacing his office. “She just threatened to annihilate her own capital! War is the last thing we need.” Annie, Zeke and Hitch watched him pace; Annie looked expectant, waiting for whatever he’d say when he calmed down, Hitch looked a little unnerved, but that could have been the entire situation and Zeke was bored, puffing sullenly on a cigarette. Pieck had returned to her Depot and her work on outing the infiltrators; Levi had gone with her. 

“She did you a favour.” Zeke tapped his smoke’s ash off in a tray on Armin’s table. “Makes you look more reasonable by comparison. And she’s the one they’re after. Let the Mitras Envoy consider her uncontrollable. Now they’ll have to change their strategy for capturing her. And their current strategy sucks for us.”

Armin grimaced and leaned on his palms on his desk. “So just let her wage war?”

“Let her threaten it anyway. Zeke’s got a point.” Annie put her hand on Armin’s shoulder, rubbing small circles into his back with her thumb discretely. He closed his eyes, letting her touch ground him. “I sympathize with her. She has something she wants to protect.”

Armin caught one of Annie’s hands in his own and squeezed it. Then walked around his desk to his chalk board behind it. He’d already had his aide sketch a detailed map of Paradis Island. “Fine. So we have Mitras.” He picked up a piece of chalk and circled Mitras on his board, near the centre. “And we have Barn’s Pirates.” For Barnes he circled the coast near Alliance town, where Gabi had spotted the dock. “And a Yeagerist. Joseph Kettler.”

“Do you have any information on him?” Zeke asked.

“He’s the Mayor of Yalkell.” Hitch explained. “He was a major supporter of the Yeagerist uprising. He helped supply the re-building of Shinganshina fort and stationed troops there. I don’t know a lot about him personally, but… unlike the others he already had a power base and legitimacy prior to the uprising. That might be why Mitras prefers him. Of all the Yeagerists he has the largest standing army of around thirty-six thousand, three divisions. And they have experienced battle; they fought off the invading Marleyan forces. Together they would have around sixty thousand. Enough to fight off the other Yeagerists.”

“So marrying Historia to Kettler will unite Yalkell and Mitras. And sacrificing Reiner will unite the Yeagerists.” Armin hesitated. “What happens to us?”

“We’re an afterthought.” Zeke said. He picked up a piece of chalk and started writing on the board.

Armin watched him carefully.

**Mitras: Twenty-four thousand**

**Alliance town: Twelve thousand**

**Kettler(Yalkell): Thirty-six thousand**

“Hitch what are the numbers and locations of the other two factions?” Zeke asked.

Hitch walked up to the board and circled one of the Wall Rose towns to the west. “You should add Norden, the northernmost of Sina’s cities to Kettler’s territory.” She pointed south. “Engles took Hermina, the southernmost city. He has around twelve thousand. And Onyakopon is saying it’s likely he’s putting pressure on Mitras from the south. They saw something going on there too.” Hitch pointed to the east on wall Sina. “This is Stein. He took Stohess in the east. He’s the worse of them, trust me. He also has a tight hold on Karanese, the easternmost of wall Rose's cities. He’s probably the one responsible for whatever’s happening by Nedley. He commands twenty four thousand soldiers.” She wrote under Zeke’s annotation.

**Stein(Stohess, Karanese): Twenty four thousand**

**Engles(Hermina): Twelve thousand**

Zeke underlined both Alliance town and Yalkell after Hitch was done with her additions. He pointed to Alliance town. “We have twelve thousand troops, all of which have seen years of battle in a modern theatre of war and are equipped with modern weaponry.”

“And the Titans.” Hitch said.

Zeke glanced between her and Armin. Armin could see what he was thinking. _Does she know?_

Armin shook his head. “It’s best if we assume that we can’t use our Titans offensively.” 

“Huh?” Hitch blinked. “Why?”

“I can’t explain further. But for now that’s about the size of it. What were you getting at Zeke?”

“I can see the predicament Mitras is in. They’re now basically surrounded by Yeagerists who have the ability to project force because they have the resources of a town to rely on for supplies. It’s not just their hatred of Marleyans, they’re actually being very practical. At least from their point of view. The truth is that we’d still be a better bet.” Zeke picked up a different coloured piece of chalk. “I’ve read the reports on the island’s current level of technology. Most of these are Garrison forces, right? They’ve never had to build supply lines because they’re stationary. I would estimate that a reasonable rapid force projection for any substantial portion of each of these Yeagerist armies is around… ten miles, assuming they use horse. Whereas ours is more like this…” Zeke drew a circle around Alliance town of one hundred miles. “Supplied from Mitras we could probably project force over most of the territory within Wall Sina. Not to mention we have a deep water port.” Zeke frowned. “They don’t have a single clue how important that is do they?”

Armin shook his head. “And I don’t think they want Marleyans controlling all of Sina.”

Zeke’s eyes widened as he opened his hands towards Armin in incredulity. “Even though we’re not all Marleyan. Or loyal to Marley.”

“I think Hofferson might be starting to grasp that.” Armin snarked. “After living with us for three fucking years.”

“So simply offering our services won’t solve this?” Zeke asked.

“Nope.” Armin said.

“You might be right about Kettler. But I think you’re underestimating Stein and Engles’ ability to project force.” Hitch tapped the chalk board. “Especially Stein. They both are more mobile then Kettler. Fact is, Mitras is in a bind unless they get some kind of leverage over not just Kettler but Stein at the very least.”

“How does the Envoy know the Pirates are going to give him a counter offer for Reiner?” Annie moved to sit down and Armin started towards her to help before he was stopped by her waving him away. “I bet if these Pirates were willing to deal with Mitras, they would have already. Do they know why they want him?” 

“Well that’s it then.” Zeke scratched his ear in his odd, cross arm way. “We’re their best bet for getting him back. That may be why the Envoy is here. So we work with them. Tell them we’ll find Reiner and give him to them as a good-will gesture.”

Annie glared at him. “No.”

Zeke raised an eyebrow at her. “Is that non-negotiable? Or is there a certain price you’re holding out for?”

“What?” Armin stared at him, astounded. “Of course it’s non-negotiable!”

He raised his hands, palms out as if warding off their dismay and anger. “I have to know what you’re willing to do if I’m giving suggestions. Then we tell them we’ll help and double cross them. They’ll see through that, though.”

“Feels like a migration.” Hitch said, squinting at the map. “There’s so much movement upwards. Stein into Nedley. Engels into Mitras. If you want territory and towns to terrorize wouldn’t going south make more sense? The further north you go, the more intact the old guard is and the harder the targets. And then there’s us.”

“A migration. You’re right.” Zeke nodded, giving Hitch an impressed sort of half smile, half frown. “That’s very astute. Something might be going on to the south. I would suggest surveying past Sina Territory to find out what.”

“And the biggest question remains unanswered in all this.” Armin tapped his foot as he stared at the chalk board. “Why did Reiner go with the Pirates without a fight? What was their leverage.”

“I remember reading that he said: ‘I have to keep things quiet.’ Keeping things quiet? I’m guessing their leverage is blackmail. Which means a spy network. We’re probably looking at least two sets of infiltrators.” Zeke tapped Armin’s board. “And the more dangerous set is not from Mitras. We could use Reiner here. He’s surprisingly good at sussing out people’s hidden motives. And hiding his own.” Zeke sighed. “I could never figure him out when he was in Marley.”

“You could never figure _him_ out?” Armin said, incredulous.

“He was an enigma. I suspected he wasn’t completely loyal to Marley because he would pick up on the hints I laid down about Marley’s political machinations. And the only way he could have done that is if he had an outside perspective. I never approached him, though.”

“Why not?”

Zeke took a thoughtful pull on his cigarette and blew it out. “Even if he had doubts about Marley, do you think he’d be sympathetic to ending all Eldians' ability to have kids?”

—Great House, Reiner’s Office—

Historia leaned back against the door to Reiner’s office, exhausted by the day’s events. Mikasa fluttered around the room like a bird unsure where to land. They others were gone but with the two of them alone Mikasa gotten increasingly flustered, glancing around the office furtively, unable to meet Historia’s eye. After a few awkward minutes the taller woman’d pointed towards the door. “I’m going to go to the commissary and get some lunch. I’ll be about half an hour. Is there anything I can bring back for you?”

Historia shrugged and stepped out of her way. “I guess a turkey sandwich if they have one.”

Mikasa nodded and then scarpered.

Historia watched the door after Mikasa’d closed it, still baffled by the other woman’s awkwardness. She wondered if it was the amount of time they’d been apart. With Mikasa gone, she was alone. Historia felt a bit of a second wind and got up, walking through the office towards the desk, swinging her arms and catching her fist in her palm as she looked around. It was a fairly large and ornate room, with elaborately carved support beams and a ceiling divided into a chess-board of recessed panels. On one side were arched windows, accented on top with panes of green and blue glass that dropped splashes of bright colour on the pale wood floor. Beside the windows and across from the entrance was a heavy dark wood wardrobe with brass fittings. It dominated the small sitting area--a chaise lounge with light pearlescent grey, blue and green fabric and a low table. On the lounge was a neatly folded blanket, beside it was a desk lamp on the floor. Historia’s brow drew as she scooted over. There was a small brazier near the brass lamp and she suspected—owing to his habit of preferring the ground—Reiner slept there, on the floor, his back to the wall, facing the door. They had put her up in his apartment the night before and she had noticed that it was completely unused.

Nothing in the room reminded her of him but she knelt down, picked up the folded blanket and lay by the brazier anyway. Her anger had fled, leaving her drained. Lying there with her head pillowed on the blanket she wondered if she had the right to miss someone she barely knew. She buried her nose into the blanket; now sure she was right about her guess because it smelled strongly of him. “Why do you sleep on the floor like this?” The thought of him spending his nights alone on the floor in a corner of his office made her heart ache and then it all started crashing down around her.

He was gone. She wadded the blanket around her head and sobbed. No matter what she did, no matter who she got angry with, he was gone and there might be no way to get him back. For the first time she cried helplessly, without caring if she had the right, until her stomach ached and she started to hiccup. When she was too tired to continue, she wiped her eyes and sat up.

As she did so something caught her eye. The table in front of the chaise had a cubby at the back. In that cubby were books. She sat up and scooted over, pulling them out to look at them. The first few were military history, dog eared and annotated. Then philosophy and science fiction—a genre she wasn’t very familiar with since the island still didn’t produce a lot of speculative fiction—and finally a journal.

The journal was leather bound, soft to the touch, she hesitated opening it. After a moment her curiosity overwhelmed her. She took a deep breath and flipped to the first page.

She started to read. It took her a paragraph to realize it wasn’t a diary entry but a story. A war story. She paged though the journal. It was a series of stories and fragments of scenes. Plus notes on military history. And essays on philosophy. Historia closed it; no wonder he was so quiet, he had entire worlds inside him.

Someone was at the door, fumbling with the doorknob.

Quickly she hid the journal in her interior jacket pocket, feeling like a criminal. Mikasa entered, balancing two plates. She placed a plate with a sandwich in front of Historia, then a plate full of cut and fried potatoes. “They only had chicken salad. It’s gross. Slimy. The chipped potatoes are pretty good though.” She picked one up and ate it.

“Are you stealing my chips?” Historia asked. “The only thing you’ve described as edible?”

Mikasa dropped the second chip she’d picked up, guiltily. “Sorry.”

—Great House, Armin’s Office—

“Here.” Brandeis said, pointing at the map of Paradis Island. “This is where we have to be if we want to stop Mitras and Kettler from advancing and protect Nedley from Stein.”

Historia watched as Brandeis glanced at Parvel. Parvel leaned over the map, looking at the spot Brandeis had chosen. A narrow valley flanked by two mountains. Across the mouth was a river. It was situated between Nedley and Norden. Parvel nodded his approval.

They were conducting a military strategy session in Armin’s office. All of the senior officers were sat around his desk, looking at an elevation map of the island—Brandeis, suddenly included as a new senior officer, Parval, Capozzi, Muller. Armin’s staff, Levi, Hitch, Pieck and Hofferson. And finally herself and Mikasa.

Hofferson shook his head. “And how do we establish ourselves there? We should stay here and focus on protecting the town.”

“No.” Brandeis levelled a stare at him. “We can’t lose Nedley. If we bunker down, we’ll be running from a fight that we can’t afford to run from in the long term. There’s a temptation to be timid because it means we’ll lose in three months instead of one week. But no one’s coming to our rescue, Hofferson so that means we are choosing to lose in three months. If we go the pass we might lose in a week, but we might also win.” Brandeis pointed to the pass. “Don’t look at this in terms of what we can’t do. This is where we need to be if we want to win; so we have to make it work. And we can do it because we got the best weapon on Paradis.”

“Infantry?” Hofferson asked.

“Infantry’s just good for making a ruckus.” Brandeis grinned. “If you want to do real damage you need army engineers.”

Parval patted Brandeis shoulder, smiling at him. He turned to Capozzi. “How quickly could you establish supply lines here?”

“Laying light rail from our yard here… to here.” Capozzi tapped the map. “A month. Do they have long distance artillery?”

Hitch shook her head. “I don’t think so. Most of them are still using canons.” 

“Oh. Well, I don’t want to say that makes it easy. But it certainly does make less of a nightmare. Three weeks.” Capozzi said.

“And we need to set this up so we bring our war to them. We have to turn that pass into hell and give them no way of getting around it.” Brandeis looked at Armin as he said that.

“We’ll be vulnerable while we’re setting all that up.” Capozzi said.

Historia stepped forward and tapped her finger on a point in front of the river across the valley's mouth. “This is the only safe place to ford the river. What if we place a small force here. To stop their advance and give us time to set up our strategy.”

“How would that stop their advance?” Capozzi asked.

“March under the banner of the royal house. With me.” Historia said.

“Madness.” Hofferson protested. “No—“

“It’s brilliant.” Armin stared at Historia with astonishment. She blushed under his gaze. “It’ll stop Mitras in their tracks.”

“But she’s who they’re after!” Hofferson stood, furious.

“We just need enough of a force to make sure they can’t kidnap her and think twice about attacking.” Armin countered. “I can’t see them convincing Mitras troops to run over the Queen. Neither will Kettler’s troops, since he needs her. We force them into a stalemate.”

“And what about Stein. Kettler might take Mitras’ lead and not attack, but will Stein?” Parval asked.

“Depends on how much control Kettler and Mitras have over Stein. But if they lose control and he does attack… Do you think they’ll go after us or him?” Armin countered.

Silence settled over the room.

Parval whistled. “That is a game of chicken right there.”

“If Stein attacks we can use the forest for cover and use our machine guns to corner them. We dig in and make sure they are forced to fight our way.” Brandeis said. “Squad to squad. A brutal, slow gang war.”

Armin stared at the map, his fist pressed against his mouth. He lowered his hand. “We have to make absolutely sure Mitras knows who they face. In fact we need to make sure as many people in Mitras know. We need to send a delegation.“

“I’ll go.” Hitch said. “Stohess fell to Stein not long after I faked my death. I doubt anyone in Mitras even knows what happened to me but I still know people there in the Military Police.”

“I’ll go too.” Levi stepped forward. “I don’t look forward to going back to that shithole but of all of us I know it best.”

Pieck raised her hand. “Armin. Send me in case they need an extraction.”

Levi looked back at her, frowning.

“It’s not a war zone.” Pieck countered. “I can be useful. If I can’t go, you certainly shouldn’t.” She nodded at his leg.

Levi’s eyes narrowed in anger but he said nothing more.

“So we have our delegation. The other critical thing is to make absolutely sure Historia isn’t kidnapped.”

“No one will touch her.” Mikasa’s hands dropped heavily on Historia’s shoulders. Historia felt herself pulled against Mikasa’s chest. “On my life.”

Historia blushed and glanced back, placing her right hand over Mikasa’s left. “Mikasa.”

—Mascarene Islands, North of Paradis—

“My god this place is beautiful.” Jean stopped short on the dock. Reiner stopped with him. They’d had to take a skiff deeper into the bay as it was shallow water. Islands like the Mascarene were not new to Reiner but when he saw the wonder on Jean’s face he couldn’t help but look out at the waters and smile. White water foamed around the dark gold and russet rocks on shore; further out the water was staggered into wide bands of delicate turquoise, brilliant cyan and deep indigo. The air smelled of warm salt-water and here and there of the sweet, deep pink flowers blooming on the trees behind the beach.The beach itself was a pristine arc of white sand. In front of them rose what Reiner realized was once a resort. It was a series of white stone buildings with roofs made of elaborately layered curved red tile shingles: eerily silent when it should be full of tourists, women in satin drop-waist dresses and furs and men in patterned suits.

“What is this place?”

Reiner pointed to a sign on the dock. “The Sammezzano. It’s a resort hotel.”

Jean started. “You mean Marleyans would vacation here?”

“Why not? Mindless Titans don’t swim.”

“So not fifty miles off our shore, you were partying.” Jean shook his head.

“Well not me. Because I was Eldian.”

“Yeah, sorry.”

Reiner shrugged. He glanced around. “Nobody’s telling us to do anything. Let’s go ashore.” He slapped Jean’s shoulder and started trotting towards the beach. As he got closer, he realized there was a small man, dark complexioned, in a loose cotton shirt and blue-grey wool suit pants waiting for them on the landing.

He offered a Marleyan salute when Reiner was a few paces from him. Reiner offered one back, his hand up, palm forward.

“I am Beatrice’s assistant.” He said simply. “Please come this way. Sorry for the lack of ceremony; we’re quite informal here.”

“Yeah, so are we.” Reiner replied. They were led through the resort entrance, a water garden featuring symmetrical lilly pad pools that reflected the pure blue sky. Ornate grey and white stone plinths rose from the water, covered in moss. Yellow, blue and red birds hopped along the surface of the rock—hunting insects in obscure crevices—their feathers long and floating.

“It’s surreal.” Jean said.

They entered the open air foyer and the assistant ushered them into one of the sunken alcoves. Each alcove had an identical set up: cylindrical armchairs with white and charcoal striped backrests in the shape of a stylized fan sea shell ringing a low wooden table inset with different coloured wood in checkered patterns. “This is very modern.” Reiner said as he sat down.

“Fifteen thousand islands.” Jean said as the assistant poured them tea from a silver set. “That’s a lot of land, come to think of it.”

“Many of them self-sufficient. Thank you.” Reiner took a cup of tea. It was mint. He noticed cookies on the table and took one. They were some sort of butter cookie with shredded dates. “What happened to the tourists?” He asked the assistant.

“The resort was abandoned after the first Paradis invasion began. Marley stopped issuing visas to visit islands close to Paradis. Beatrice and Samuel took it over shortly after that.” The assistant waved to encompass the grand, yet somehow peaceful foyer. “Why waste such a beautiful location?” When he was done pouring the tea the assistant stood. “Beatrice will be along shortly.” He bowed and left for the hall that ringed the foyer.

Jean shoved cookies into his mouth while Reiner considered eating his second. “The Rumbling was never going to work the way he thought it would.” Jean said around a mouthful of crumbs.

Reiner shook his head. “That assumes he had a plan beyond destroying Marley and the allies. But if you mean solving Paradis’ problems, no. He created several dangerous power vacuums and completely overlooked the ocean.”

“Reiner Braun.”

Reiner glanced up, looking back. Behind him was an Ashanti woman. She wore a watered silk dress in the same vibrant colours as the bay. It was a current style, at least current to the moment civilization ended in the Rumbling. She was taller and broader than Mikasa, the low neckline of her dress revealing shoulders and arms hardened by work and scarred by battle. She was also fuller figured, the tailored drop waist managing to accentuate instead of hide her tight waist and shapely hips. She was beautiful, Reiner noticed, but had a decided coldness to her bearing.

“Beatrice Barns?”

“That is correct.” 

“I wasn’t expecting to entertain a Goddess.” He stood and bowed, taking her hand and kissing it. “Sorry for my dress, my lady.”

She smiled softly. “Your manners are excellent.”

“Not always.”

She nodded approval. “Dangerous as well. Walk with me.” Beatrice raised a hand when Jean stood to follow. “Just him for now.”

Reiner presented his arm to her and she took it. Her armed escort followed, a pace behind. Reiner glanced between it and her as they moved through the foyer to an open courtyard surrounded by colonnades. “To what do I owe this honour?”

“I have a proposition.” She smiled, her dark eyes taking on a lethal glint. “I think you’re aware of our respective positions so I’ll jump right past the set up to the payload. You have the power of the Founding Titan. Ackerman were created by that power. I want you to help me create an heir to the clan’s original glory. In addition to that I want information about the Hizuru and their current whereabouts.”

Reiner stopped short. “You want me to betray them?”

“Betray is a strong word. They’re holding out on you so consider it a realignment of priorities. If you do that for me, I will give you warships and freighters for your naval ambitions. That’s a far better deal than the pittance they’ve offered. We will also help you build an onshore well and refinery; as long as we have priority access to the products of said.”

“And what about using the Founding Titan to create Ackerman. How do you see that working?”

“The usual way these things work. You may not be able to change others with half the Founding power but I am certain you can change yourself.” She turned to face him, an eyebrow raised. “Use your imagination.” 

“You want to use me in an extremely intimate manner, you want me to betray my allies. If I don’t, you’ll sell me to the Yeagerists and have threatened the wellbeing of my town and the lives of members of my council. And you’ll no doubt destroy any naval or trade ambitions that we might have if we refuse. But if I do, you’ll join your navy to our cause and help us. Is that about it?”

She patted his arm. “It sounds so harsh in summary.”

“Why don’t you just get your brother to do it the old fashioned way with some other girl?”

“Each mixed generation receives a diluted power. The founding power can and will restore the Clan to its original power.” She smiled and her smile was all canine. “With you as it’s conduit.”

Reiner looked over the foyer towards the ocean. “A child raised by you to be a weapon.” He felt anger rise inside himself. He lashed out, grabbing her by the throat in a move that he knew shocked her from the fright in her eyes. “What you want from me is outrageous.” Reiner said, his hand around her throat and jaw, thumb pressed into the soft flesh under her chin. Despite how painful it must be she did not wince. She waved her guards away—they’d already stepped up, pistols levelled at Reiner’s head—and watched him with cool fury. Still, she did not resist. “And what you want you cannot force out of me. I have to give it willingly.” He leaned closer, his lips against her ear. “That’ll cost you. More than what you’re offering.”

She caught his hand in a grip like iron and pushed it away. As she stepped back he saw the fury heat and a brief flash of fascination. “Don’t do that again. My assistant will take you to your rooms. Take your time considering my offer.” She regained her composure and waved her assistant over. “Accommodate their wishes. As long as they are reasonable.” She nodded at him curtly. Before she’d taken a step she half turned. “The next time I call on you, I expect you to be clean and dressed for the occasion. Good day to you, General Braun.”

“And to you.” He bowed and watched her walk off with unassailable dignity, perfectly suited to the high class surroundings. He felt filthy and rough by comparison.

Her assistant glanced at him, the man’s face now very guarded. “I’ll fetch the keys.” He ran off to duck behind the long counter at the other end of the foyer.

“What the hell was that? You almost got yourself killed!”

“Yes. I almost got myself killed. Many times over.” Reiner grimaced. “I’m sure there are snipers strategically positioned around here in addition to her guards. I had to show her that I wouldn’t submit to being threatened.” He glanced at the taller man. “She thinks that the founding Titan power can create Ackermans. I don’t think I have that much control. But the Pirate Queen is convinced I have enough to change myself.”

“What? Become an Ackerman?”

“Not quite. Make one. With her.” Reiner sighed. He felt overwhelmingly exhausted: his eyes burned as his stomach seethed. He was glad now he had eaten almost none of the food the assistant had set before them. “I’m pretty sure she intends to pursue this whether or not I agree. So my only option was to frame it in such a way that I retain some control. I needed to have something more to bargain with.”

“What do you have now?”

“Myself. I just intrigued her. She knows I know that I almost died to fight back and gain hand.” Reiner snorted ruefully, closing his eyes. “’Don’t do that again.’ Guess what we’re going to be doing again.”

—Alliance Town Great House, Council Chamber—

“Where’s your Entourage?” The Envoy snarked as Armin returned to the Council chamber.

“We’ve made our decision, Envoy.”

“Oh have you? Where’s the Queen? I’d like to get back, this place reeks of dog.”

“She’s not going with you.”

“Then you’ve chosen war.” The Envoy sneered. “If we win, we’ll burn your little social experiment to the ground and execute you all as traitors.”

Armin nodded, he turned to leave, pausing with his palm against the door to the Council chamber. “If, Envoy. _If you win._ ”

—Alliance Town, Front Gate, Next Day Morning—

Hitch grabbed Annie’s hands in her own. “Take care of yourself. Don’t stress out. Take care of Armin. Remember to take the vitamins Pieck mixed up for you. Oh!” Hitch fished in her bag. “I almost forgot. I knitted you a blanket.” She settled it around Annie’s shoulders. “There. Wait, it’s dragging in the dirt.” She wrapped it around Annie another time. “Gosh you’re so small. Oh Annie!” She grabbed the shorter woman in a hug.

“Don’t get yourself killed.” Annie said, muffled by Hitch’s shoulder.

“I won’t! I have to live to see your baby.”

“Yeah.”

Hitch heard a commotion at the gate and looked up. Historia was leading her horse towards the front gate to join the gathering soldiers.

“I have to go.” Hitch said, kissing Annie’s crown. She caught Annie’s hand and squeezed, then turned to walk off.

“Bye.” Annie waved.

Hitch let her go reluctantly and started to run the three blocks to the gate. By the time she’d finished running the first block, she already felt like her lungs were on fire.

“Historia!” She called.

The smaller woman glanced up. “Hitch.” Then she turned back to tightening the girth on her horse’s saddle. Hitch watched Historia stop and stroke her horse’s neck as she neared. “Stop tensing, dumbass. You’re not getting out of this now.”

“Historia, do you have a moment?” The taller girl stooped over in front of Historia. “Oh my.” She put a hand on Historia’s shoulder to steady herself, the other on her thigh, breathing hard like she’d been running a marathon. “I wanted to talk to you before you left.” She swallowed and gasped.

“Good god, Hitch. You’re really out of shape.”

“Yes.” Hitch acknowledged as she straightened. “That’s why I went into the MPs, so I could be a lazy drunken slut. Hasn’t really worked out for me. I probably should have just been a waitress in a bar.”

Historia’s brow drew; she pulled her shotgun from her shoulder, turning to slide it into her saddle holster and then picked up her rifle. “I’m about to leave, Hitch.” 

“Wait, I had a point. I didn’t come to tell you my life story.” Hitch leaned closer. “I wanted to talk to you about Mikasa and Reiner.”

Historia closed her eyes, shoulders dropping, then turned around. “What about them?”

At Historia’s pained look Hitch felt her throat clench, she coughed to clear it. “I don’t know the whole story. There might be more to it, you know? I’m not trying to be stir up trouble but I wanted to make sure you knew—“

“What?” Historia said sharply. “Know what?”

Hitch took a deep breath. “They’re in a relationship. From what I saw, it seems pretty serious.”

Historia stared at her. “How long?”

“A couple years.”

“I see.” Historia shoved her foot into the stirrup and pulled herself up and over her horse’s back.

“You’re just going to go? Like that?”

“Doesn’t change anything about what I have to do.” Historia replied. “Or when it has to get done.” She moved to urge her horse into a trot to fall in line with the rest of the party.

“Wait!” Hitch caught her leg. “I’m sorry.”

Historia glanced down. “Why? You’re just the one who told me.”Historia looked up.

Hitch followed her gaze, she was looking at Mikasa who was with Brandeis inspecting the rest of the party. “Why didn’t Mikasa tell me?”

“Huh?”

“I told them both that if there was something between them that I understood and wouldn’t interfere. My marriage to Reiner is purely political. And they still didn’t come clean. Why?”

Hitch looked up at her. “Mikasa’s not really good with awkward conversations. Please don’t be angry with her.”

“Yeah. Thank you for telling me. Don’t you also need to go?” Historia nodded at Levi and Pieck who were waiting at the gate. “Good luck, Hitch.”

“Good luck, Historia.” Hitch echoed.

Historia urged her horse into a walk, then turned after a few paces, looking back at Hitch. “Don’t blame yourself. I already suspected something.”

Hitch nodded. She watched Historia ride away, wringing her hands.

“Hitch. Come on, let’s go.” Levi called from the gate. She turned and walked towards Levi and Pieck, wondering if she’d done the right thing.

As soon as she neared, she noticed Eberhardt and he noticed her.

“No. She shouldn’t come with us.” Eberhardt protested, standing in front of Levi, his hands raised. “Hitch is not an Ackerman like Captain Mikasa, she’s not a shifter and we have no choice about the Queen going. But Hitch doesn’t have to go. She shouldn’t go.”

“Ebby. Don’t give me an out.” Hitch held his hand in hers, pleading. “Do you know how much I’d rather stay and be spoiled and fought over by you and a bunch of other men?”

“Wait.” He frowned and pulled his hand back. “I didn’t mean—“

“It’s hard enough to do this as it is.” She balled her shaking fingers, shoving her hands in her great coat pockets. “Reiner may be important so he’s protected by that but what about Jean? He’s not needed by anyone. I have to do everything I can to make sure he gets back alive.”

—

Hitch’s look of sympathy unsettled Historia so she turned from it, looking at Mikasa’s back fifty paces distant. Parval had walked over to Brandeis, both men exchanging their last words on strategy.

When she’d caught up with them and they’d nodded a greeting, she’d glanced between Mikasa and Brandeis, both on dark horses in dark grey uniforms. Mikasa had her eyes on the gate and whatever lay beyond. Brandeis smiled at Historia. They looked quite handsome and dangerous together and it filled her with certain confidence to be riding with them.

Still.

Why hadn’t Mikasa told her? Historia had suspected something the moment Mikasa started blushing when she mentioned Reiner. She remembered the taller woman’s frantic look. Mikasa must not known how to tell her. That and the constant awkwardness finally had an explanation.

Historia looked down at her hands gripping the reins. She doubted either of them would want to intentionally hurt her. Mikasa was her friend; only she and Armin had spent time with her after the Alliance had returned to Paradis. Partially because Hofferson wouldn’t allow too much contact but also because she’d never been as close to the others. Mikasa never really talked much, but then again, neither did she. Sometimes Mikasa would talk about Eren at Historia’s kitchen table and cry. Historia had also loved Eren but Mikasa was the one who deserved to have him; she harboured no illusions about her place in that particular trio and that also applied when it came to who had the right to mourn his passing.

Why hadn’t Reiner said anything? Maybe it was just a matter of timing. The second time he seemed focused on his job—getting the infantry set up at the ranch, smoking out the infiltrators—so focused she’d started to suspect he wouldn’t spend any time with her at all. Then Brandeis had pushed her to go talk to him.

Yes. She had gone to see _him_. Him avoiding her made even more sense now. Armin had told her that they would need an heir to cement the Loyalist’s ties to Alliance Town and she was sure Reiner was aware as well. In fact she was quite sure the message “try harder” was a reference to doing just that.

 _Try harder._ Set aside your own feelings for the sake of our future. _Take one for the team._ Historia’s stomach sank. Why had she even thought he was interested? She thought about when she’d said ‘you’re mine’ to him and her throat clenched with embarrassment. What a foolish, selfish, presumptuous thing to say.

Historia snorted softly at the irony. She was in second place again. Reiner was also Mikasa’s. She let that realization burn itself into her heart.

But it didn’t matter because even if he wasn’t hers, she had promised to protect him. She would do what she could to protect them both.

“Hey kid.” Brandeis moved his horse closer and stared at her steadily. Not for the first time Historia thought he looked a little like Bertholdt… and even more like Kenny but she pushed that aside. “He’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. This’ll work. And if it doesn’t…” He tilted his head at Mikasa, grinning, “We’ll make them regret it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, Zeke the Wonderboy.
> 
> Zeke: Let’s just sell Reiner to the Yeagerists ourselves. Wouldn’t that solve a lot of problems?  
> Armin: WHAT?  
> Zeke: You’re right, we could get a significantly better deal by selling him to Mitras.  
> Armin: We’re not selling him—  
> Zeke: For this price. I gotcha. We should hold out for more.
> 
> If Eren is a deconstruction of a Shounen protagonist, Reiner is a deconstruction of a Harem manga protagonist. :D


	13. A Beast of Himself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man.”
> 
> ― Samuel Johnson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *warning* Non-con, rape. Neither are explicit. Also torture and brutality towards children are mentioned but not explicitly described.

—Mid East front lines - Seven years ago —

“Clean yourself up.” Brandeis dropped a bucket of muddy water at his feet and gave him a filthy towel. “Get the gore off.” 

Reiner stared at his bloody hands.

“Kid. No point dwelling.”

“I’m not. Not at what I just did. They were trying to kill me. They were soldiers. But…” Reiner shook his head. “I killed a friend. Just like this. I could feel him struggling underneath me. His wrists in my hands. And him straining against me. His muscles… I could smell his fear. He was fighting so hard, but he couldn’t get out… because I’m too strong.”

Brandeis sat down beside him in the empty field. They’d returned from Reiner’s first raid, walking back to the relief trenches with the wounded, and finally when the chaos of savagery and cheers settled, to the field behind Head Quarters. It was dark. Hours before dawn. Brandeis lit a cigarette, his back to the front, crouching to hide the light even far from snipers.

“What would have happened if you didn’t kill your friend?”

“He found out something he couldn’t know. We would have been revealed. Likely executed if they managed to capture us and figured out how. And if we got to Marley execution for our mission failure along with our families.” Reiner replied, rattling off the consequences by rote.

“Didn’t have a lot of choice then. You have a right to fight for your life.” Brandeis dipped the towel in the water, starting in on cleaning Reiner’s face. “Violence is what the world wants from us, Angel. That’s not your fault. They tell us we have to go kill other men because they’re hateful, so we do. And then they want us to turn off the hate when we’re done. To kill other men like beasts and turn back into saints when we’re home. They don’t understand that the hatred in us holds back so much pain. And they never ask themselves, maybe the problem is what they ask of us in the first place.”

“They were my friends.” Reiner thought of Krista. Immediately he felt that pounding desire paired with horrible sickness. “I wanted to stay with them forever.” The words gushed out of him and with the confession came immediate relief. “I’m supposed to hate them but I don’t.”

“Do what they say. It’d be easier on you if you hated them.”

Reiner shook his head. “No.”

“So you are a lion.” Brandeis smiled. “You’re choosing this pain. That’s not a dog’s path. A dog avoids pain.”

Reiner looked at him, confused.

“I didn't decide that war was the way we were going to solve our problems. That decision is well above my pay grade, so it's not like I'm going to change anything by not being here. The only thing'll happen is some other poor asshole will be here in my place. I keep track of the turnover for lieutenant; and I've lasted about four times longer than average. That means if I wasn't here, four other men would have been in the spot I'm occupying and died in it. If anything, I'm saving them and the better I survive and the better a job I do, the more of them I save. Same goes with everyone in my platoon. That's what I care about. Staying in this spot for as long as possible to save someone else from having to take it. If there's any sense for a creature like me to exist in this world, it's to spare a better man from this hell." Brandeis wiped more blood off Reiner’s face. “I think that makes me a lion. This war needs lions. It needs courage; men who don’t run from pain. The Marleyans lucked out. They have a whole bunch of caged lions to call on. Canties rather be here fighting on the knife’s edge and living like lions than back home licking some Marleyan’s boot like a dog. It’s going to bite them in the ass one day, though, when the Canties get back home in force. You’re a bit of both right now: dogs take orders, lions brave pain. But you’re being ordered to hate and you choose to be in pain instead. The pain you’re feeling… I don't think you’ll get over it. Maybe you don’t want to. I think you just learn to live with it. Like you got something amputated. But you’re choosing the pain. Maybe you’ll understand why one day. And then you’ll be a lion through and through. King of beasts.” Brandeis handed Reiner the cloth. “Finish the job. Clean yourself up. You did good. You didn’t lose your head and even though you still sorta obey like a dog you fought like a lion.”

—South Nedley, advance party, 2 days post declaration of war—

Historia took the binoculars from Brandeis, looking out at the gruesome sight before them. Just beyond the copse of trees they were hiding in was a field full of bodies. She had smelt the ruin before they had arrived; a horrific mix of human waste and rotten flesh. Like the cleanup after the Trost attack. She couldn’t help flashing back to that horror. They were both attacks on civilian targets; in that case they had managed to evacuate many of the civilians at the cost of her fellow cadet’s lives. In this case she was looking at a field of dead unarmed men, women and children. Most of them cut to pieces with machetes. Along the tree line were posts and nailed to those posts were dead children, facing the trees.

Historia felt herself slip into hyperawareness, everything around her taking on a sharp edge and her emotions sliding away like smoke. She knew from experience that was because what she was feeling was so huge she wouldn’t be able to get her fingers around the edge of it for weeks. If ever.

“They were from Norden. They were on their way to Alliance Town via Nedley.” Mikasa said.

“I guarantee Stein has eyes along this entire stretch of field. He’s trying to bait us into engaging with him here.” Brandeis caught Historia’s gaze. “If we take the bait, we will be routed here and we won’t be able to save anyone.”

Historia’s brow drew. “How does he know we’re here?”

“Spies? He also could have recognized the importance of this location for transit. Or this was part of his strategy to force a confrontation.”

“He’s smart.”

“Yes. And ruthless. If you can’t handle this, then move to the centre of the formation. But we cannot break our cover here.”

“No. I don’t have a right to look away.” Historia handed them to Brandeis. “This is my responsibility. I brought this madness into the world.”

She watched the field as they filed past as quietly and quickly as possible on their game trail. The trees were dense enough that most of the carnage was hidden from view, but here and there she could see hands, feet, faces hacked to pieces by the Stein Yeagerists. They hadn’t just killed them, they’d desecrated the corpses. She refused to let herself look away. _This is the monster you brought into the world. This is what you made the world look like; the Yeagerists are just bringing the Rumbling here._

After awhile Historia noticed Brandeis could no longer look. He just stared straight ahead, looking pale and sweaty, trembling.

Historia closed her eyes in a moment of weakness. Then she heard the sound of a child whimpering in agony. One of the children nailed to posts was still alive. She saw a flash of a pale, limp form, shivering from blood loss and the cold.

Before she knew it, she was off her horse and running towards the sound. An instant later she was stopped short as if she’d run into an iron bar. She gasped and spat, her wind knocked right out of her. Mikasa shoved her hand over Historia’s mouth. “No.” She hissed into Historia’s ear. “How many more children will die if we fail?”

Historia realized that Mikasa’s hand was shaking. She glanced back. The taller woman was crying. “I’m sorry.” Historia whispered. She looked at the line of soldiers behind her, all of them watching her with pale faces and horrified eyes. She could see in their trembling hands that they had almost broken when she did. If Mikasa hadn’t stopped her…

She stood up and with deliberate care turned away and remounted her horse. She felt all eyes on her; if she could do it, so could they.

“Thank you Mikasa.” Historia said as she rode past her.

Their furtive trek through the dark forest resumed. The sound of the child crying in exhausted pain seemed to go on forever until Historia realized they were too far away to actually hear it and she was listening to her memory of the sound.

When they got past the tree-line and moved deeper into the cool forest, the smell of death fading, she felt relief. And immediately hated herself for feeling relief. They all rode in silence in the dark, locked in their own individual hells. Historia thought about her reasons for helping Eren. She could say that she did it to protect Paradis all she wanted, but it had been a selfish choice in the end. She’d wanted to be of use to him, share something with him, even if it was a monumental sin. She didn’t want to lose that one human connection she had with him as the worst girl in the world.

That child had died because of her. So many children had died in fear and agony because of her.

Thanks to the Yeagerists and Stein she had just got a small taste of the monstrosity she had unleashed. She never thought she could hate herself more than she already did.

“It’s not just military strategy.” Mikasa said, interrupting her thoughts. “He’s sending the refugees a message. ‘If you seek out asylum with the Marleyans you will be treated as one of them.’”

“This is definitely a problem.” Brandeis wiped the sweat off his face with the back of his hand. “Stein is very dangerous; he’s capable of any sacrifice in service of his goal. He’s going to bring a hard fight. And he’s capable of more violence than I am. I’ve never killed a civilian. And we just passed a massacre of women and children.” He touched the pip at his collar. “Baptism by fire, huh Parval?”

“I trust you.” Historia stared straight ahead, battering away her dark thoughts. Self-hatred was an indulgence that she had no time for. “There’s more to it than what you’re willing to sacrifice; it’s also what you’re willing to sacrifice for. Predators are cowards at their core because they don’t care about anyone but themselves. He thinks he intimidated us, broke our nerve? He just steeled my resolve.”

“Good.” Brandeis said, his shoulders set. “Then we do this no matter what it costs.”

“If he wins then that will be Annie’s child’s fate.” Historia continued. “Along with her and Armin and every other father and mother and child in Alliance town. We have to stop him here. No matter what it takes.” She glared at the dark in front of her. _I have to kill my demon._

—Mascarene Islands, North of Paradis, 4 days post declaration of war—

Reiner decided that he hated the cheers most of all. The resort housed a rabble of privateers, pirates and general thugs, rough men and women all. In the evening they would spill onto the beach for a bacchanal, drinking, fighting and eventually fucking. It was a darker, more deranged echo of his time with the Canties. The centre piece to the evening festivities was a pit ringed by wooden bleachers where they staged fights among various champions.

The noise was unspeakable, not because it was loud but because he hated being applauded for his violence. Up to that point, it had always been a somber affair. A necessary evil, not something to revel in. That violent self was a tool he brought out in silence and put back in its place, also in silence.

He also hated the fakeness to it. The Pirates knew how to fight but in the ring everyone was a showman. They would drag out matches for applause or amusement. He could not do the same. Two years fighting hand to hand in the trenches gave him instincts that he couldn’t temper. Most of his matches were over in minutes. The only thing he could do is prevent himself from killing.

Among the Canties he was valued for the violence he could do, but at least when they awarded honours they did it for valour or courage or having been wounded. This was a celebration of the pure capacity for inflicting suffering. There was a dark undercurrent of desperation and despair to it as well. Reiner knew the Ashanti privateers from before the Rumbling and although they had occupied a liminal state between outlawry and official patronage, there had been dignity among them, respect for individual sovereignty and respect for a common purpose. They had principles, they fought for Ashanti’s pride in a world where the law served a functionally lawless and unprincipled Marley. That spirit had given them grace and magnanimity as well as order and discipline.

With Ashanti destroyed by the Rumbling, there was no future, nothing to build and no reason to live. With fraternity and sense of purpose gone—and the overwhelming despair of living in a dying world—they followed baser, chaotic drives. Bloody, cruel thrills. Self-destructive pleasures. Bullying and tyranny. Not that Reiner was in that much of a position to judge. He probably had the highest body count on the Island.

At the end of the fighting was the thing he hated most. The Queen’s harvest. He would go through many more matches than anyone else in the hole they’d dug on the beach; blood pooling on the wet sand, glinting rich and dark in torchlight. He could bleed a lot and they liked that. They’d save his hardest opponents for late in the night, when he was ground down, panting, slick with sweat and spit and blood, lathered like a pit dog.

Those fights were the worst because the fight would get disordered and he’d start to lose control of his violence as they edged him into a state of desperate survival. _Keep your feet. Keep your feet. Stay off the ground._ He’d almost killed one of them in that state—shattered his cheek and jaw—and they had loved the brutality of it while the other man wept in agony at his feet.

The Queen had come to him at that moment, having had her fill of watching the violence he was capable of. He knew what she wanted and he gave it to her; grabbing her by the throat and slamming her up against one of the area pillars. _Don’t do that again._ He kissed her and she bit his lip hard enough to make him bleed and laughed.

The crowd around them started to scream.

He was functional. He didn’t drag himself through the act like a shot dog. Which horrified him silently. _What does it say about me that_ ** _this_** _is what I can do?_

Preforming in front of a cheering crowd was a new nightmare, however. Of course he preformed flawlessly because as much as he would wish otherwise, he did not hate that she desired him. Even if what she desired was the story he constructed and enacted for her, the lies he was telling, at least he was the one telling them. He wasn’t just a vessel for another man. He also did not hate that look of breathless intoxication, the way she flexed against him, the lust that softened her dark beauty into something lush and sweet, most of all, the sheer power of her. She could tear him to pieces, or rather, they could tear each other to pieces and finally find oblivion together, in that hopeless hell with no rules and no sense.

The screaming reached a fever pitch around them.

When she finished and disengaged—he didn’t finish, would not allow himself to in this context—he would stagger away somewhere to hide among the palm trees, the sudden rush of revulsion so intense it felt like it was crawling under his skin and down his throat.

She’d trailed him the first time, the crowd still cheering and following their lead. He’d swallowed his bile and forced himself to meet her curiosity with disinterest.

“I want your decision.” She’d demanded.

“The moment I give it the fun stops.”

“You think you’re gaining something from delaying?”

He forced a smile. “The pleasure of your company.”

“You are such a liar.” Beatrice laughed. “Everything about you is a lie. Deception upon deception upon deception. And I bet the greatest lie you tell yourself is that this isn’t you. That you’re a truthful, humble man.” She caught his chin in her hand and he suppressed the desire to yank it away. “You would have made a great sea dog. So ruthless. So violent. Such a liar.” She leaned close, firelight glinting in her eyes. “The fun stops when I say it does.”

Afterward, when she left him alone, he would lay down on the floor of the suite she’d given him and stare at nothing, finally able to enter a state as close to non-existence as he could get. _When you’re on the ground, you might as well be in a grave._ He’d let himself sink through layers of gray silt, settling out at the bottom of some deep sea trench, the world far above, a distant ripple of light. It was soundless there and he could rest. Waiting for the next time he was ordered or demanded or compelled to do something and his will caught him in its teeth and dragged him into his next fleeting hit of self-worth. _You can be useful._

After awhile he slept and that was a relief. He woke up here and there; his time in the trenches had ruined his ability to sleep properly at night or for long stretches. After a while he realized he wasn’t waking up alone.

Someone sat with him, washing his face and singing to him. A stranger. An old woman. He started and she placed her hand on his shoulder. “Tenangkan diri anda anak singa.”

“Lion cub?” He repeated, sitting up.

The old woman was from one of the island nations north of Hizuru, judging from her stature, skin darker than the Hizuru, rounded face and features and her language. She wore a brightly coloured cotton wrap, her eyes warm as she smiled at him. She tapped her chest. “Ronal. Saya akhirnya menemui anda.”

Reiner winced as he pulled himself up and the motion pulled at his wounds. His healing had slowed to nothing in the state he was in. “You were looking for me?”

—

Jean lay in an apparent drunken stupor in the hallway to one of the wings of the hotel. He watched a maid push a cart towards him through half lidded eyes. When she had finished cleaning the penthouse suite and was closing the door he lurched to his feet and stumbled towards her, slurring out an aimless ramble.

She flinched—the keys rattling in her hand—as he draped himself over her shoulders and started fumbling through the contents of her cart. “Got any mints?”

“Sir!” She squeaked, trying to stop him from tumbling bottles of detergent, glass cleaner and one-use shampoo packets all over the floor. After a minute she changed her strategy and started to push and slap at him to get off. “Leave. Go!”

He let her manhandle him away and slumped against the door to the penthouse, sliding down to the ground.

She grabbed up the contents of the cart he’d spilled all over the floor, glaring at him and swearing at him in the Pirate patois he had started to pick up over the last few days. When she got her cart back into some semblance of order she trundled off down the hall, occasionally shooting him glares over her shoulder. When she turned the corner he waited, slumped and pretending to snore softly until he heard the click of a key in a lock and a door swinging open in the other hall.

Surreptitiously he glanced around. No one was there. It was about the time of night the Pirates went and pursued their… piratey festivities on the beach and Jean had noticed early on that he seemed to be rather forgettable to them on the whole. Just a stupid, drunken Paradisian.

Satisfied he was alone, he got to his feet and tested the door. It opened. He’d distracted her enough that she’d forgotten she hadn’t locked it.

He slipped inside.

“Jackpot.” He said quietly as he socketed the door closed behind him. This was Samuel’s set of rooms. And—he opened a door and found a desk and sets of map drawers along the walls—his office.

Jean chuckled as he wiggled his fingers with glee. “What secrets shall we find here?”

After he was through his search and Jean was back in the lobby playing his part as a useless drunk, he watched Reiner limp in from the beach, covered in bruises and cuts. His eyes had a glassy emptiness. The Pirate Queen was draped over him, apparently oblivious to his discomfort.

“Goddammit Reiner.” Jean sighed. “You’re going too far again.”

—Mitras Gates, 5 days post declaration of war—

Pieck shivered as the wagon creaked and rattled on the main road to Mitras. Their delegation was passing a dirty encampment of refugees; several undernourished and filthy men were burying bodies in a mass grave. Unconsciously she reached for Levi’s hand. It was cold; she glanced over. He was stiff with anger or some deep discomfort; staring straight ahead at nothing. “Levi.” She whispered.

He broke out of his trance, looking at her. “I’m fine. Nothing changes, it just gets worse.”

Their delegation transport was a wagonette—Pieck, Levi on the front driver’s bench, Hitch’s security detail headed by Eberhardt, riding in the back along with some of the captured Garrison soldiers headed by Kemlo. Hitch, Kemlo and Eberhardt rode horses beside the wagon.

As they approached Mitras, the ranks of refugees grew thicker and the encampment more permanent, changing from canvas tents to ramshackle tin and scrap wood shanties. Then they hit the first checkpoint, a wooden palisade with barb wire nailed along the top.

Mitras Garrison soldiers manned the gate; they’d also grown thicker in number as they neared Mitras. They had muskets, pistols and thinner versions of the ODMG swords in sheaths. With no wall and no trees there was no way to use the island’s signature military equipment.

Pieck watched Hitch dismounted, catch her horse’s reigns and show the Garrison her Military Police papers and the official documents declaring the delegation from Alliance town. Mitras recognized them as sovereign, if only so they could offload some of their continual influx of poor and desperate refugees onto them.

There was so much chaos between the cities now, that while they might still recognize Hitch’s papers, they probably had no current knowledge of her employment or survival status as a Stohess MP. Kemlo dismounted as well and presented his papers. Mitras couldn't know that he was now a turncoat, but if Hitch failed to talk to her contacts, they would use Kemlo to talk to his. In exchange Kemlo’s family would get sanctuary in Alliance town; although Armin had insisted it wasn’t an actual exchange and he’d offer sanctuary regardless, Kemlo still decided to help so he could tell his family to get out. If Kemlo failed—Pieck looked at Levi—they’d use whatever back channels Levi still had access too. Or she’d use her own after her previous infiltration of Mitras.

The Garrison guards took a look at her and Kemlo’s papers, stamped the official delegate documents and waved them through.

They moved about one hundred feet before they were in another line for the main gate. Hitch and Kemlo dismounted, moving closer to the cart. She tied her horse’s reins to the cart and moved to join Pieck in the front seat.

“Hitch Dryse.”

Pieck glanced up at the name. She watched a disarmingly handsome dark haired man approach them. His looks only marred by a brutal scar down the right side of his face, bisecting his eye and cheek. Pieck looked from him to Hitch and had to suppress a start. Hitch looked like she had just seen a demon.

Eberhardt seemed to materialize at her side in an instant. Pieck blinked at the suddenness of his movement. 

“Karl Stein.” Hitch acknowledged, her voice hollow.

Stein walked closer, his gait fluid and fast. Pieck was reminded of Brandeis except when she looked Stein in the eye—he had pale blue eyes—she didn’t see a trace of human feeling. With Brandeis there was an ocean of kindness, despite his hard demeanour; Stein was a desert, dry and hard down to the bedrock. Pieck felt Levi slip his arm over her shoulder, pulling her closer. She glanced up. There was tension in his face as he watched Stein.

“Hitch. I thought you were dead. Where have you been?”

Stein’s attempt to get close to Hitch was cut short by Eberhardt stepping in his way, hand up. “Please stop.”

“What’s it to you?” Stein snapped.

“I’ve been ordered to protect everyone in this party. That includes her, sir.” Eberhardt inclined his head at Stein’s Mauser. “And you are armed.”

Stein smiled. Pieck noticed not only was it dissonant to the situation, it did not touch his eyes, they remained intense without a wrinkle of sympathy. “She’s one of ours.” Stein said. “From Stohess.”

The way he said it made that shiver Pieck felt seeing the refugees slip back. It was too intimately possessive. Pieck glanced at Hitch; the blond woman looked ashen faced.

“Step back.” Eberhardt said lightly. Pieck watched him angle his shoulders to block Stein’s slow but steady encroachment into Hitch’s personal space. She also watched a ripple move through his muscles; a very subtle change in how he balanced his weight. “Until she says otherwise, I’m responsible for her safety.”

Pieck watched, fascinated by their quiet physical chess match: Imperceptible to someone who didn’t know what they were seeing. She looked over to Levi: he was intensely focused on the confrontation as well, betrayed only by a slight narrowing of his eyes.

She heard footsteps behind her. The rest of Eberhardt’s squad moved without a word to back him up.

“What’s going on?” Kemlo trotted up from the back of the delegation. He deliberately stepped between Eberhardt and Stein, forcing both men to back off. “Are these Marleyan dogs bothering you?” He asked Stein, crowding him further back as Stein tried to figure out how to respond to him.

Stein finally settled on folding his arms over his chest and glaring down at Kemlo. “If I needed Garrison assistance I would ask for it.” Stein hesitated. “Why is she with Marleyans?”

“She’s assisting the Garrison in escorting the Alliance Town delegates to the Steward.” Kemlo explained.

“So that’s you.” Stein glanced between Levi and Pieck. Then at Eberhardt’s squad. “It’s good to see your faces. I’ll be seeing you around in the Steward’s senate hall.” He looked at Kemlo and Eberhardt, then to Hitch. “I’m glad you’re alive, Hitch. We should catch up sometime.” He smiled at her and saluted by touching two fingers to his forehead and flicking them towards her. Then he turned smartly and walked off through the crowd milling to enter the main gates.

Hitch pulled her horse alongside the cart, next to Pieck.

“Good to know our faces huh? That was ominous.” Pieck frowned. “Was that…? Is he the one you escaped from in Stohess.”

Hitch looked disturbed and flustered for a moment. “Yes.”

Pieck raised her eyebrows. “I wasn’t expecting that. The way you described it--”

“I slept with him once. _Once!_ Before I knew he was bad news.”

“How did you not know?” Pieck asked. “He’s obviously evil.”

“He was cuter when he was younger? I don’t know.” Hitch put her hand on Pieck’s forearm. “I had really bad taste in men, okay? But I got over it. What the hell is he doing here?” Hitch hissed. “Why is Stein in Mitras. Goddammit. I got found out in five minutes!”

“You don’t know that. He knows who you are, but he may not know the entirety of your connection to Alliance Town.” Pieck said. “Let’s stay calm. Besides even if you are, we still have other options to get the word out.”

“I knew you shouldn’t have come.” Eberhardt ducked closer to Hitch. “Someone’s going to end up dead over you, ma’am. Either me or that man. Hopefully not you.”

“I’m sorry.” Hitch said. “I didn’t realize he’d be here. I should have thought of that.”

Pieck tapped her lips with a finger thoughtfully. “It’s good to know that he is, though. That may end up being important information and we might not have got it without you here Hitch.”

Eberhardt looked cross at that. “That’s a lot to risk. Everywhere outside of Alliance town is living by uglier rules.”

“Winner takes all.” Levi said. “And you’re going to protect her at the cost of your life even though she’s not your woman, huh?”

“They’re my orders. And it’s a principle. If we don’t have them, then we aren’t soldiers, we’re warlords.”

“Like him.” Pieck said. “I wonder if he realizes he’s killing a lot more than just people.”

Levi looked at her, eyebrow raised. “I doubt he cares. That is a true predator.” He glared at Hitch, who blushed. “And a rancid man. Bad taste indeed. How could your father have ever let you date him?” Levi turned to look at Pieck, giving a small shake of his head. “I wouldn’t have let her.”

Pieck patted his hand, pressing her lips together in agreement and echoing Levi’s head shake.

Hitch rolled her eyes. “Next time I’ll let you two vet.”

Levi frowned. “Next time don’t pick up strange at the gates of Hell. Common sense, Hitch.”

—Mascarene Islands, North of Paradis, 6 days post declaration of war—

Jean yanked Reiner’s hotel room curtains open. It smelled like a bar room carpet and something vaguely feral, a wild animal’s den. "Look at this disgusting hole." Jean picked up a trash can by the window and started pulling bottles off the desk, throwing them in. He heard a moan and turned around. A young woman with a similar look to Mikasa but darker skin, broader features and a more voluptuous figure was passed out on the floor close to Reiner. She wore a thin, brightly covered wrap that hid almost nothing. “Oh, and you got a girl here. You are a pig.” He kicked over a pile of bottles. "Can you actually get liver failure?"

"I don't think so." Reiner covered his eyes, groaning. "I don't even know if I can die."

"So what you're immortal?" Jean glanced down at Reiner. The man looked like he’d been beaten and knifed. “Shit, you’re covered in bruises and cuts. And you stink like a goddamn dog.” He ducked closer, inspecting a slice on his side that was still weeping blood. “This one’s deep. Why aren’t you healing?”

“If I heal I sober up.”

“So you’re lying here in pain just so you can stay drunk? Why don’t you heal and then drink again?” Jean picked up a half drunk bottle and set it aside on the desk. “It’s not like you lack for rum.”

“Maybe I like being in pain.”

“Wow. Are you genuinely a masochist or are just too stubborn to admit you were being dumb?” Jean picked up another bottle and slammed it into the trash can. “Every day we spend here, you get worse. I never realized you were prone to being a violent, over-sexed drunk.”

“It’s not like we’ve been joined at the hip for seven years, Jean. You don’t necessarily know everything about me.”

“She’s a bad influence on you.”

“Imagine that. A Pirate Queen is a bad influence.”

Jean shook the girl's shoulder to wake her, then pulled her up from the floor beside Reiner as she moaned in pain. "Out, wench.”

She swore at him in one of the multitude of languages he’d been hearing over the last week as she stumbled to her feet. The meaning of the words was obvious however.

"Wench? That's the correct nomenclature on Pirate Island, isn't it?"

She threw him some hand gestures as she wobbled out the door.

"She's just pissed that you woke her up."

"Did you sleep with her?"

"Do you mean did I have sex with her? Because I’m pretty sure we did sleep in the same general location together.”

"I was trying to be polite--"

"I don't know." Reiner wiped his eyes and pulled himself to sitting. "Does it matter?"

Jean sighed and pulled over a leather footstool. Like everything in the room it was brightly coloured and ridiculously ornate. He sat down beside Reiner. "Sometimes I feel like I'm living my life backwards. I've been kidnapped and taken to an island full of sexy pirate women but only after getting a steady girlfriend. Which I figured was a miracle since, you know, the town is three fourths men. I thought she was going to end up with Brandeis. But luckily for me, he didn’t care.”

"I don't think he didn't care, he just knew you were the one she actually wanted. Brandy has some pride." Reiner glanced at him. “Don't you dare feel jealous of me Kirchein. The way you and Hitch are going at it, you might end up married to your first girl. If that's the case, count your blessings because you'll only have ever had had sex with someone you love. You don't want the experiences I've had."

"She has more experience than me."

"Well then she can please you better."

Jean grimaced at him. "And what about you? You have a wife... and a concubine or mistress or whatever it is... and the Pirate Queen, and now you're also entertaining random floozies."

"I thought I locked my door." Reiner said darkly. "I'm going to get some caltrops and set up a spike trap. Maybe grievous bodily harm will get them to stay away."

"Who?"

"I have a cult now. They think I'm the physical embodiment of their Ocean God. It's just getting weirder and weirder."

"Tell them you're not a God."

"That's just it. I don't know if they're wrong." Reiner hid his head in his hands. "I don't want to be a god. Is this how Eren felt with the damn Yeagerists?"

Jean was startled by the petulant whine coupled with genuine suffering in Reiner's voice. "Are they all like that girl? Young, nubile, attractive?"

“Her name is Talia.” Reiner said. “And yes. Except for Ronal. And the men, I suppose. Depending on what you mean by nubile. Vaea and Lagi are both very pretty men. Also incredibly violent. Sort of like Armin—”

“How many people are in your cult?”

Reiner narrowed his eyes, thinking. “Twenty. They’re following Ronal, who has been trying to find me for years. They became part of the Queen’s fleet because Ronal prophesied my return involved her.” At Jean’s look of incredulity, Reiner shrugged. “I don’t get it either.” 

"Maybe if you start enjoying having a cult, they'll go away and it'll stop. Isn't that how life works?" Jean picked up some more bottles. “Or tell them to leave." 

“They don’t do what I tell them to do. They don't listen to me for shit, they constantly demand stuff from me and they do whatever they want and then tell Ronal I told them to do it. Being a God is apparently like being a father of teenagers.” 

“What about the Pirate Queen? Does she think you’re a god?”

"She's atheist or agnostic or she has a different religion, I don't know. But no, she doesn't believe in my divinity." Reiner took a swig from the bottle of rum. "Too bad, it would have been a great bargaining chip. I’m surprised you’re not enjoying this hedonism, Jean.”

“Yeah, I enjoyed some of those delicious coconut rum things and a few foot rubs. It got boring. I have a job to do and I like moderation in my indulgences. It’s not fun when you’re incapable of stopping. Look at you. You’re not having any fun at all.” Jean sucked his teeth in disgust. “Of course you’d go to ridiculous extremes. Extreme asceticism and extreme debauchery. Or self-flaggelation. I can’t even tell what this is, really. It’s just extreme.”

“Maybe this is the real me?”

Jean turned away to pick up another bottle. “I’ve seen the way you are around your surrogate daughter. And son. You’re a walking paternal instinct. You can’t fake that. And it’s not like you can take care of kids and be a stoned, whoring, murderous pirate.” Jean sighed. He’d run out of room in his trash can. “Well maybe you can, I guess. But you’re going to be doing one or the other pretty badly.”

Reiner didn’t respond. Jean turned around. The other man had covered his eyes with one hand while he wept wretchedly: shame and despair rolled off of him in sickening waves.

“Reiner!” Jean dropped the trash can and knelt beside his friend. “What’s wrong?” Jean slipped his arm around Reiner’s chest, hugging him tightly, his head resting against Reiner’s shoulder. “You need to stop this. You’re going too far.”

“I can’t.”

Jean’s brow drew. “Do you mean figuratively you can’t stop yourself or literally something is preventing you from stopping?”

Reiner didn’t answer.

“Why are you having sex with the Pirate Queen exactly? You confused me with all the Ackerman and Founder talk. Could you run me through the logistics again?”

“She wants an heir as one of the conditions.”

“An heir. A child. _With_ with you.”

“Yes she’s convinced I can use the Founding power to manipulate myself. Same thing Zeke wanted to do, but instead of infertility, changing… you know.” Reiner gestured downward. “To create Ackermans with what she thinks was their original power.”

“So physically father children that can be used as weapons. And if you don’t agree she’ll sell you to the Yeagerists or she’ll kill people in our town. Is that it?”

“Yes.”

“I knew there’s a ‘holy shit’ somewhere in here. So it’s rape.”

“It’s not r-ra…” Reiner stuttered over the word. “It’s not that.”

“Can you say no without someone dying?”

Reiner didn’t answer.

“You’re pre-emptively seducing someone before they force you anyway, Reiner. That’s—”

“Stop. Okay.” He breathed out hard, staring straight ahead at nothing. “That word is going to shatter my nerve. And my nerve is the only thing she wants from me. Don’t use it.”

“Alright. How about… unplanned tactical engagement with the enemy. I used the word ‘tactical.’ I figured you’d appreciate it.”

“Tactical is a good word.”

“We should leave.” Jean said. “Right now. We should steal a boat and leave. Immediately. Yesterday.”

“It’s fine. One more time isn’t going to kill me.”

“One… _more_ time?” Jean stared at him in horror. “This has happened to you _before_?”

“I’m more worried about her expectation that I betray the Hizuru—”

“Goddammit. Stop that. Don’t derail the conversation by dropping what you think is a bigger bomb.” Jean grabbed his arms shaking him. “One. _More._ Time?”

Reiner’s shoulders dropped, when he spoke it sounded like he was trying to work a thistle out of his throat. “When I came back from Paradis the first time, I caught the eye of one of the higher ranking military officials and his wife. He… uh… A while before Magrath took over the Warrior program was notorious. They started the training older but they used more questionable methods to extract compliance. Drugs, torture, rape. I guess I got caught in an echo of that.” Reiner went quiet, he now looked empty which disturbed Jean more than his pain. “When the request came I never saw Magrath that angry before. It made me think that he cared about me. I guess in the end it’s obvious he cared. He must have carried that for a long time and never said anything. It seems a strange line to draw though. It's okay to send a 12 year old boy to do mass murder but that's beyond the pale?"

Jean stared at him. Reiner shifted uncomfortably under his stare, unable to look up. Jean closed his eyes and turned around to sit beside Reiner, their shoulders touching. He slipped his arm around Reiner’s neck, pulling him into a side hug. "Because it's needlessly cruel. I mean it’s all cruel. But that’s just… fucking awful."

"Don't worry about. I'm probably making it sound worse than it was.”

“Stop it. Stop setting the bar so high.”

“Jean, I’m flat on my back with nothing. She went into this negotiation with hard power; I went in blind. The one thing I can do is fight for some kind of leverage with her on a personal level. That is something I _can_ do. I can’t think about the fact that it’s not something I _want to do_. I’ve done this before. This is just one more time. And as long as she’s toying with me, she’s not killing people, she’s not going after the Hizuru and we’re giving the council more time to figure things out.” Reiner shook his head and laughed unhappily. “Give me a year I could probably fuck that desire for revenge out of her."

Jean choked. ”Where does this confidence come from?" 

"Experience. This is one thing I’m actually good at that isn’t killing. Appealing to the tastes of violent, disturbed people. Must be why I’m useless for Historia.”

“What do you mean?”

Reiner lifted his hands, opened them helplessly and pressed his forehead into his wrists. The thistle was back in his voice and despair radiated from him so harshly that Jean felt like he was choking too. “I can function perfectly with this pirate and with any other woman, but with her I’m sick, I’m in pain. I’m like a wounded animal dragging itself around. What if… this is what I am? Permanently.”

“Stop it.”

“Jean…”

“I hate this about both of you, you and Eren, you know that? You set the bar so fucking high it’s unbelievable. Everything is your failure. Nothing is ever out of your hands. No amount of pain is enough for you to stop and think ‘hmm, maybe I shouldn’t do that.’ You always have some standard you’re not living up to.”

“Jean.” Reiner repeated, angry.

“No, you need to hear this. I figured all of this was unsettlingly out of character. But you’re so fucking stubborn. More and more I’m starting to realize that Marco was right. And wrong. He said that I could lead because I can relate to the weakness in people because I’m weak. I am aware I can be hurt and I don’t blame myself or others for just wanting to avoid getting hurt, generally. He meant leading people who aren’t like you and Eren. Now I wonder if people like you don’t actually need me more. Because I understand something you don’t seem too. There are limits to what you should expect from yourself. And this is one of them. Fine you can’t stop this. I get it. But you better damn well realize that it’ll cost you and it’s not your fault if it does. You’re not broken or weak—you’re not a victim—you’ve just been forced to carry more than anyone ever should. Take it from someone who actually is weak.”

Reiner leaned his head into Jean’s neck, closing his eyes. “You’re far from weak Jean.”

Jean caught the side of Reiner’s head and sighed. “I had a reason for coming here and it wasn’t to bitch at you for being a sad, drunken fuckboy. I can’t tell you here, though. Heal yourself for fuck’s sake and meet me tomorrow at sunrise out by the bamboo grove on the right of the water feature at the entrance.”

“Right as you leave, or right as you enter?”

Jean thought for a second. “As you leave, turn right.”

—Norden Valley, southwest of Nedley, 7 days post declaration of war—

Historia looked over the dark field at the camp fires of Mitras' and Kettler’s armies. The sound of rushing water at her back and two armies encamped in front of her made her feel a constant, grinding dread. Tactically it was one of the worst positions to fight from; the only thing that made it tolerable was the political advantage.

Both Mitras and Ketler knew she was there. They both knew if they pressed too hard, it would either force a fight or a dangerous river crossing, either of which could easily get her killed in the chaos. Her vulnerability was the Alliance’s shield.

It had worked; they were currently in a stalemate.

“Keeping up your nerve, your majesty?” Brandeis said softly. Behind him Mikasa’s horse snorted and shifted. The other woman was silent. The night was clear and the wind still, the moon high and bright. It gave everything a sharp, eerie quality. Reiner called it a “deuce night” in his journal—as dangerous as it was useful.

Historia did not turn; she kept her eyes on the enemy camp. “I want to see them. I want to feel their energy.”

“Three armies staring each other down, waiting for someone to make a move. Nobody wants to fight but… the waiting is the worst of it. The pressure of it builds, makes men do stupid things.”

“They know we can’t do anything to them like this.” Historia said. 

“They’re sending patrols along the river. I’m allowing it for now because I don’t want direct engagement, that might incite them to a fight. If they start making moves to cross the river, we’ll have to get more aggressive. Practice some area denial. That’s when it might start.”

“Or when Stein gets here and decides to make a move.” Historia said. “Mitras and Kettler are pretty timid.”

“Prudent.” Brandeis said. “They are very prudent. Being able to pick your fights is a good skill. Heh. One that I still need to master.” Brandeis shook his head ruefully. “That Envoy was a fucking piece of work but it looks like the Steward of Mitras has some sense. As does Kettler.” 

“From what Hitch has told me and what we saw, I don’t think Stein is very prudent.”

Brandeis chuckled low in his throat. “No. He obviously leads an army of fanatics. They have nothing they want to defend, unlike Ketler or Mitras. Just a grudge to settle against us Marleyans.”

Historia glanced at him. “You’re not Marleyan. You’re a Cantie.”

He nodded then grinned at her. “Thank you for understanding the difference. It doesn’t seem to matter to the people who it needs to matter too, though. Everyone outside the island thinks the same, right?”

“The Stein Yeagerists need to force everyone on the Island to think the same.” Historia leaned on her pommel, watching a bit of movement in the dark of the enemy camp. “So they need everyone off the Island to think the same. If that wasn’t the case then killing you all wouldn’t be justified. And if killing you all isn’t justified, then they aren’t justified in piling up that mountain of children’s bodies. One of the greatest enemies to peace is peace of mind. To stop killing you have to admit you probably shouldn’t have started in the first place. So they’ll never stop. Because how can you ever admit you shouldn't have done... that.” Historia closed her eyes. Closing her eyes didn't stop the memory of the child's screams. It had been easier when she’d lied to herself and pretended Eren had convinced her that everyone outside the island was one single hateful people who couldn’t be reasoned with. Except, of course, she’d always known different. _Reiner_.

“Uncompromisingly insightful. I can see why he likes you.”

Historia blushed, her eyes snapping open. She glanced at Mikasa. “I don’t think he likes me that much.” She still had the journal in her great coat pocket. The weight of it against her breast spurred her to feel ashamed to have intruded into their relationship. She’d have to give it to Mikasa at some point. Historia hated herself for wanting to keep something of him when she didn’t have the right.

While she was ruminating, Brandeis tensed, levelling his rifle. “Stop!”

Historia turned around just as Mikasa echoed Brandeis’ movement, aiming her own rifle.

In the dark field between their armies a single man walked.

He stopped, raised his hands and called out. “I’m unarmed.”

Historia could feel a dozen hidden eyes snap to him; snipers hidden behind tussocks and in the trees behind them.

“Who are you? What do you want?” Brandeis demanded.

“To Parley with the Queen.” The man hesitated. “My name is Joseph Kettler.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I discovered someone sort of obliquely criticized this work on Pinterest because Reiner was "cheating" on Historia with Mikasa. I feel sort of disheartened by it since I thought it would be clear from the tone of the first chapter that this wouldn't be a straight forward relationship story. 
> 
> The relationship forms the fundamental backbone of the story, yes, but not just the shippy aspects of the relationship. These are two sovereigns and their relationship has political, military, social even spiritual implications well beyond giving each other googly eyes. All of these are going to pose problems. 
> 
> Also Reiner originally was trying to help a friend and he didn't want to dump his promises to Mikasa because Historia was dropped back into his life abruptly without his knowledge. The Political marriage is the start of developing a relationship, not the end. They don't owe each other fidelity at this point, imo, because neither of them really see it as a real marriage yet.
> 
> ~~Do you guys want me to continue? Maybe this is too dark for this fandom. :\~~
> 
> Of course I'll continue! :D On with the show.


	14. Compromises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hitch faces her past in Mitras. Reiner and Jean explore new horizons. Mikasa confesses to Historia.

— Mitras, Residential district—

“Hitch.” Pieck said. “Could you tell me more about what happened in Stohess with Stein. Was he the only reason you left?”

They had finally entered Mitras proper and had stopped in a tavern after Levi had decided it was unlikely they were being tailed. The tavern was, itself, a front for one of the Tybur spy network’s safe houses. They sat at a table along the back wall, hidden from casual scrutiny by the dim lighting and some half walls.

“It wasn’t him per se.” Hitch replied. “Everything was going to hell in Stohess. And if you think I had bad taste in companions, his was worse. It wasn’t even him at that point, it was the people he kept company with. Although once it got really bad I didn’t know what he’d do either. It was escalating so rapidly.”

Pieck thanked the serving girl as she slid each of them a tankard of ale, a pot of tea for Levi and a bottle of clear spirits for Kemlo. Pieck waited until the girl left earshot before continuing. “Sorry if this is intrusive, but could you tell me more about your relationship? Was it serious?”

“Serious?” Hitch’s voice squeaked. “He and I were MPs originally. Partners for six months. I…uh... I was actually sort of dating him for a month and my concern about his life choices was growing so I thought, you know, he's a man, if I give him what he’s after, he'll scutter off like a silverfish does when you turn the lights on. So I did and he sort of confessed he was in love with me.”

Levi and Peick exchanged a glance; Levi raised an eyebrow, giving her a look of consternation. “Why did you think that would work…?”

Pieck lifted her hand, waving Levi silent, her expression pensive. "What did you say?"

"I think I laughed and said 'what, for real’?”

Levi groaned. Kemlo snorted from where he’d set himself up in the corner with his spirits and a shot glass.

Pieck frowned at them.

“It’s just sympathy. I think we’ve all been there.” Kemlo sipped on a shot.

Pieck turned back to Hitch. “And how long after that did you disappear?”

“A couple days. The situation in Stohess turned bad rapidly after that. At that point I don’t even think he had the time to try and find me. I really didn’t think he’d end up leading a faction of Yeagerists.”

“So from his perspective he has no idea why you disappeared, only that you did disappear and were probably dead. And then reappeared alive two years later with a Marleyan guard and Kemlo. Who wouldn’t let you talk to him.” Pieck said.

“I was responding to her.” Eberhardt said. “She was uncomfortable.”

“And you did your job as you should. Just trying to see it from his perspective. It’s useful information. It explains his hostility. And confusion.” 

Levi sipped his tea. “Taking that into consideration, I’m surprised he didn’t make more of a scene. He just sort of… gave up.” 

“Is he going to fight through twelve men? Besides he was in shock.” Kemlo said, knocking back what was left of his shot. “I know it might be surprising but even the Yeagerists do feel human emotions.” He sat back in his chair. “Let’s just assume for the sake of argument that he actually had feelings for her. Since he confessed them. He would have been pretty shaken when she died, don’t you think? And then she suddenly reappears out of nowhere? I’d be shocked.”

“Maybe he already knew?” Levi offered.

“Why confront her in the middle of a street then, why not wait until he could get her alone? I don’t think he accomplished anything this way. Except making it known to the Alliance delegation that the head of the Stein Yeagerists is in Mitras.”

“So why is he in Mitras?” Pieck asked.

“Why don’t you get her to ask him when he finds her again?” Kemlo poured out another shot of spirits. “Better yet, have her go to him and ask.”

“No, she shouldn’t—“

“You too protective.” Kemlo said to Eberhardt. “We have a job to do here, right? That’s what I was led to believe. And we’re all in danger doing it. He’s going to want to know what happened to her. Left to his own devices he could track her story down, find out that she’s working with the Alliance government and then they take her papers and she can’t move around freely and we’re down our most important set of contacts. If she goes to him she can probably massage the story to reduce his suspicion. Say the Garrison found her on the way to Alliance town or something and she stayed with us at the Queen’s Retreat. It’s close to the truth. If he likes her, he’ll be inclined to believe her story.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Levi asked.

“Then he investigates and we don’t lose anything we wouldn’t have anyway. We saw two different things out there. You saw a predator, and sure, he is, no doubt about it. I saw a man in shock.” Kemlo looked at Hitch. “Because he’d just seen his dead lover back from the grave.”

—Mascarene Islands, North of Paradis—

“Shit, someone’s coming through the lobby.” Jean jumped back, flattening himself against the wall flanking the windows at the front of the hotel and trying to shield his face with his hand. “Fuck there’s no where to hide in time. Dammit I thought they’d all be drunk, stoned or hungover at this hour!”

“Don’t panic.” Reiner turned around and grabbed Jean behind the neck, pulling him down to kiss him as he pushed him back against the wall.

“W-wha!” Jean stammered against his lips.

Without releasing him Reiner pressed the side of his head against Jean’s. “Play along.”

Reiner returned to kissing him—a fact that Jean was still finding startling—and hugged his head in a simulacra of intense intimacy. Jean didn’t know how to respond so he defaulted to what he’d normally do; hugging Reiner back and deepening the kiss by opening his mouth—

“What are you doing.” Reiner growled in a whisper. “I said _play_ along.”

“I am!”

“No, you’re actually slipping me tongue, you fucking idiot. Keep your mouth closed.” 

“Your instructions were hardly clear.” Jean whispered back. “How long do we have to do this?”

“Shh…” Reiner put his hand over Jean’s mouth. “They’re on the beach. Tch. Not very professional. Let’s go.” He released Jean.

“They didn’t even glance at us. Is this normal behaviour for pirates or something?” Jean asked.

Reiner chuckled. “Yes. Particularly now. Theparty at the end of the world has no rules.” He turned to bound past the hotel’s front.

Jean watched Reiner run past the front windows of the hotel—there wasn’t even anyone at the desk—down the path between the water features, checking the beach beyond and then waving him forward before disappearing into the bamboo grove. Jean wiped his mouth—still trying to process what had happened as he followed—running past the pools and ducking between the thick green stalks into the cool dark beyond. Once he was a few paces into the grove, Reiner appeared from nowhere to extend an arm out to stop him. “You look flustered, Jean. Are you that upset we stopped?” The other man leaned close. “I could do things to you that would leave you incapable of walking.”

Jean chuckled wanly. “Please.”

Reiner stared at him, then he broke into a grin. “You’re so easy Kirchien. And you called me the fuckboy.”

“Wait, huh? Were you joking?”

Reiner didn’t answer, he angled his chin, looking at Jean slyly. “Were you serious when you kissed me with tongue?”

Jean sputtered. “Did I—what? Your instructions were unclear dammit! And I’m not answering that. And don’t answer my question either. We’re changing the subject.” 

“Uh-huh.” Reiner pulled his box of cigarettes out and started to light a smoke. “So you have selected ambiguity. You want to keep your options open.”

“I’m not taking that bait, sir. We are now exiting Reiner’s merry-go-round of fuckery.” Jean took a moment to compose himself, straightening the line of his greatcoat. “Alright. You wanted info? While you were… engaging tactically with the Queen, I stealthfully observed their habits and managed to sneak into Barn’s office.” Jean waggled his fingers to illustrate his stealthfullness. “While appearing as drunk and useless as possible. Honestly you drawing her attention and giving us time helped as well. So good job everyone on team fuckboy—you, me, possibly also Vaea and Lagi.” Jean pulled Reiner closer, glancing around. “We’re on Ogygia, which I guess isn’t that important aside from giving this story mythological colour. But what’s really interesting is that her fleet’s going to be permanently docked because they’ve nearly run out of fuel. Using my powers of Engineering I estimate they have enough for six months of operations at their current capacity. Maybe a year if they start retiring part of their fleet. Plus she has no international trade to pirate supplies from. She’s in more of a bind then she lets on. I mean not as much as us, granted.”

“I bet she wants to use that last year to destroy the Hizuru. After that she needs us more than we need her.” Reiner inhaled thoughtfully. “It’s a retirement plan. That’s what the child is. She’s gunning for leverage over me so they have somewhere to go when it all shakes out. And she hid that with bullshit about making an Ackerman. I guess it’s a plausible lie. Seemed far fetched to me. But I don’t really know much about the founding power.”

“One other thing. Barns is really overworked. His sister is doing fuck all. Things are starting to pile up because this operation is too large for one of the principles to simply walk off the job.”

Reiner looked at his cigarette in his hand. “Then she’s given up. That’s why they don’t act like the privateers I remember. No discipline. No order. They act more like a doomsday cult.” He smiled. “Stop undressing me with your eyes Jean.”

Jean started. He had actually been staring. Reiner was distracting sometimes. “Dammit, you got some fucked up black magic, you know that? I’m not gay.”

Reiner smirked at him. “Sure, tell yourself that.”

“Your hotness transcends your sex so this can’t be gay.” Jean hid his head in his hands. “How am I going to explain this to Hitch?”

“She’s probably going to be more pissed that she wasn’t here to watch. You’re were the one who was going to use me to bait her into strip poker.”

“That feels like it was a lifetime ago. When I thought you were more of a square than me.”

“I probably am.” Reiner shrugged. “Left to my own devices I’d have just married a woman, popped out a bunch of kids and raised them. And been happy with that. It’s funny how much of my life is… just not who I am.”

“So you finally made your choice?”

Reiner stared off into the distance. “It’s not that easy. I have to fight against the worth people give me.”

“No more tactical engagement with the Queen. You just stay in your room. Lay off the booze. I’m going to figure out a way off this beautiful, seductive hellhole.”

“That was never the point of this. I can’t stay away from her. You know that, so don’t worry about it and don’t ask me to.” Reiner said. “Thank you for finding me an angle. Now I got to put it to good use. See you Jean.” He offered one of his smug, irritating grins. “Enjoy the new fantasies I gave you.”

“I’m not taking your bait!” Jean kicked at the gravel lining the grove path. “I’ll enjoy nothing of the sort I’ll have you know!”

“And you just took the bait. You’re so easy.”

“If I wasn’t easy I wouldn’t be your friend!” Jean yelled after him. “So there!”

Reiner laughed as he disappeared into the bamboo.

Jean smiled. “It’s good to see you’re back to being an obnoxious troll of a man.”

He turned to go a different route back to the hotel and found himself face to face with a wizened old woman.

Jean stumbled back in shock. “My god! You nearly gave me a heart attack.” She’d made no noise entering the clearing almost as if she’d risen from the ground. 

The old woman smiled and tapped her chest. “Ronal.” She pointed to him. “Jean.” And then she turned and waved him to follow her. “Come.”

—Mitras, City Hall—

“Can I talk to her alone?” Stein asked at the mouth of the alcove Hitch was about to enter with him. “Or are you going to pile on me again?”

Eberhardt set his jaw, glaring. Kemlo placed his hand on the other man’s chest to stop him moving forward.

They were standing outside the empty conference chamber Levi and Pieck had claimed for the delegation’s base of operations in City Hall. The Hall was surprisingly quiet and devoid of people compared to what Hitch remembered of it just a few years before. Stein had found them before noon, well before Hitch and Kemlo were expected to appear before the Military commissioner to learn their fates in Mitras. Hitch figured he must have been searching for them.

Pieck leaned toward Eberhardt. “Put a little faith in Hitch. She does have combat experience.” She turned to Hitch. “We’ll be listening in, if anything happens it’ll take just a second to get to you.”

“Combat experience? What do you think I’m going to do to her?” Stein asked. “She used to be my partner when we were MPs.”

He moved to catch her shoulder like he would have years ago, but Hitch flinched back and Stein dropped his hand, choosing instead to walk in front of her into the alcove. She followed, feeling sick and confused.

It had a conference table and a small seating area by the window. Hitch stood at the window. It overlooked a courtyard; the trees were barren this time of year, dark veins against the overcast sky. Leaves rustled around the cobble, stirred by gusts of wind.

“They’re so possessive of you. It’s creepy. They’re Marleyans.” Stein said, his arms folded over his chest.

“It’s been a trying time.” Hitch waved her hand. “We’ve had to deal with raiders on the way here. So we’re all a little protective of each other.”

“Are you okay?”

Hitch blinked at his sudden concern. It broke her out of a line of thinking she hadn’t realized she’d been in. _He’s a Yeagerist, they’re all awful. Particularly this one._ Well he had never really been particularly awful to _her_ , granted. His friends had been another story. “I’m fine.” She said finally when she realized she’d left him waiting for an answer.

He leaned against the table in the alcove staring at the ground. “What happened to you?”

“I ended up being kidnapped and left for dead outside of Norden. You know how it was during those days. The Yeagerists,”— _which you joined_ —“were killing MPs all over the place. Kemlo found me and I’ve been with him and the Garrison at the Queen’s Ranch ever since.”

He paled and said nothing. He’d always been sort of detached, stone faced with a flat affect, but seeing him now she realized that aspect of him had gotten worse. Much worse.

“I see.” He offered finally.

She watched him. “What happened to you?”

“The MPs weren’t capable of fighting back so I ended up allied to a Yeagerist faction. We eventually defended Stohess against a take over by another faction. It was Engels. They were the ones behind the murder of MPs. It got really bad. I’m glad you survived.”

“How bad?” She’d always assumed he’d been part of whatever group had started the murders. She leaned against the table next to him, but kept a chair between them. Even as angry as she was that he’d become one of _them_ —now also confused at exactly what the Yeagerist politics were in Stohess at the time—she was also eager for news of her former post.

“Unliveable.” He said. “The Yeagerists I was allied with supported the MPs while they existed. But that wasn’t enough in the end. Eventually everything fractured and restructured seemly hour to hour, the city was caught in a kaleidoscope of conflicting loyalties. The violence was endless because no one knew who their enemies were. When it all settled out there was ten thousand dead. The reason why the Engles Yeagerists targeted Stohess was because the anti-Yeagerist sentiment was so strong.”

Hitch nodded. “Because of the deaths that Eren caused capturing the female Titan.”

“Made worse by the destruction of the walls during the Rumbling.” He hesitated. “I thought you were dead.” Another hesitation. “Do you remember what I said the last time we were together?”

“I have a boyfriend now.” She said quickly.

“Then I'll kill him." Stein said, completely flat.

"Oh." Hitch laughed uncomfortably. Was that a joke? She couldn’t tell. Shit. Why had she dragged Jean into this because she was too cowardly to say no without an excuse? "I don't actually have a boyfriend. Ha. I was trying to… Look, Karl. Why do you care so much?”

“What do you mean ‘why do I care so much?’ What kind of question is that?”

“It’s been two years. Didn’t you move on?”

Another silence. Another empty stare. “To where?”

“You’re in Mitras. There are plenty of ‘wheres’ to go too. You've already had me. You know I'm basically a common bar slut. Look at you. You could have ten of me a night. You’re punching way below your weight here.”

He looked at her, baffled. “What does any of that matter?”

“So, what’s your plan then? We have sex again and that’s it, you’re done? You go away after that? You want to marry me? What? Why bring up what you said?”

Stein went silent.

“Tell me.” She demanded.

“I don’t think I’d be troubling you for long.”

Hitch looked at him. He made it sound very final. “What does that mean?”

He shrugged.

“You’re not going to tell me…?”

He shook his head.

“Well…” She had nothing left to say in the face of his stonewalling. “It was nice talking to you.” Hitch pushed off the table.

He moved to stand in her way. He caught her shoulders. "Please. Stay.”

“What are you going to do?” Hitch stopped. She looked up at him. “Force me?"

He stared at her. “What?”

Wow, she’d finally gotten an expression out of him. He looked stricken. She almost felt bad.

“You think I’d do that?”

“You don’t give me any reason not to.” Hitch took another step forward. He stepped back. The suggestion had completely cowed him. “Well I guess you are giving me a reason now. Okay.” She started walking out of the alcove.

“When did you start looking at me like that?”

Hitch stopped and turned, glaring at him. “When you became the leader of the worst Yeagerist faction on Paradis.”

He didn’t answer. He just turned and sat down on the edge of the table, staring at the ground.. After a moment he started to unbutton his shirt.

“What are you doing?” Hitch turned all the way around, surprised.

“There was a fire. A man got caught in it on the third floor of a building. He’d suffered smoke inhalation and his wife wasn’t strong enough to carry him. I went in and saved him. At the time I still thought I was an MP. So it was my responsibility to serve and protect everyone in Stohess, regardless of what colours they wore. I passed out just as I got us both to safety. When I woke up, he had got an axe and was about to split my skull open because he must have figured out that as an MP I was allied with the Yeagerists. I managed to dodge it; I can’t remember how. I killed him. I didn’t want to but it ended up as a struggle to the death and with my face split open and blinded by blood I couldn’t restrain him. He was the first citizen I ever killed.” He hesitated, watching something she didn’t see. After a moment he resumed unbuttoning without seeming to focus on what he was doing.

“Why are you taking your shirt off.”

He didn’t seem to hear her, still not looking at her as he pulled his shirt open. “I didn’t stop trying to be an MP, not even after that. I didn’t want to believe Stohess was dead, I didn’t want to stop serving the citizens, regardless of whatever group they were part of. Sometimes they thanked me; and that kept me going. But there were still some who just got violent. Over time more and more. Neither side wanted my help in the end.”

He shrugged out of his shirt. His chest was marred with vicious scars. Hitch gasped and cupped her hands over her mouth. She remembered none of them and many of them looked near lethal and would have been excruciating to endure.

“Everything I worked for disintegrated. We lost our leadership, such as it was. Then we had constant defections along with the murders. Eventually the only people I had left were my Yeagerist friends who kept patching me up every time I tried to be an MP again.” He pointed to a thick knotted scar crossing down his stomach. “This is when they decided they’d had enough and made the choice for me. I nearly got disembowled trying to help people caught in the crossfire between the Engel’s Yeagerists and the anti-Yeagerists. They bandaged me up and kidnapped me while I was fading in and out of conscious from morphine and blood loss. Took me out of Stohess and told me it was dead already. I tried to fight them, but they just kept going further away and by the time I could walk, we were deep in Rose territory.”

He closed his eyes and Hitch got the intense impression this was some sort of confessional.

“I always thought morality was upholding the law, but where did the law go? Where did Stohess go? The people were still there, the buildings, everything… but it still died. All that mattered was the group you belonged to and that could change by the hour. That’s it. Even if you don’t want it to be true, everyone else around you believes it is. The worst place to be was in the middle. And a side ended up choosing _me_ , Hitch. What do you do when the struggle becomes so fucking awful that the side that wins is the one that’s capable of being the worst? I wish the last two years had never happened. I wish I was back with you working as an MP. I didn’t want to learn any of this, or become this.” His face was still blank and unreadable. “Seeing you look at me like that… I wish I’d kept fighting for Stohess until I got killed.”

Hitch turned away. She pressed her knuckles against her lips, her eyes burning with tears. She coughed and wiped her tears away with her fingers, turning around again. She stepped over to him, picking up the sides of his shirt and settling it back over his shoulders. Some of the wounds were so bad, they were more like trenches carved into his flesh, like his chest was a battlefield. She remembered when he’d been whole before this ruin and she realized with a start that she might be the only one who did.

He didn’t move at all as she buttoned his shirt back up and she couldn’t put a single word to what she felt.

When she was done she stepped back, her hands at her sides. They were both silent for a long time.

He was the first to break it. “I have to leave Mitras soon.”

“For what?”

He looked at her. “If you’ve been at the Queen’s Retreat and are helping the Garrison escort the Alliance delegation you must know some of the politics going on. Mitras is asking me to join with Kettler to break the Alliance town’s resistance.” 

Hitch’s stomach sank. “Are you going to do it?”

“Yes. I’ve already figured out how to get past the Queen’s Barricade and take the Valley before they can entrench. I’ll be doing it as soon as I’m done here.”

Hitch tried to smother her rising panic. “When do you leave?”

“I don’t care about Alliance Town. I’m not going anywhere until I nail them down on Engels and Kettler’s representative is being evasive. Probably in a couple days. After that there’s nothing else keeping me here.” He looked at her and she realized she’d started to figure out the extremely subtle shifts in his expressions: this one was utter desolation. “There are no ‘where’s’ in Mitras for me. I just want Stohess back. And I’m not getting it back. So I’ll settle for killing Engels. I’ll extract him like a rotten tooth out of Karanese.” Stein’s face filled with horrific violence; Hitch shuddered looking at it. “And that’s what Mitras promised me. Revenge.”

—

Pieck grimaced as Hitch returned, shaken, from her encounter with Stein. “Good God Hitch. You could get that man to crawl through broken glass on his belly for you.”

Eberhardt was sitting in a chair by the wall, leaning on his elbows over his legs, pressing his oak tree pendant against his forehead. He was pale as a ghost, his eyes shut. “It’s like looking into a dark mirror. There but for the grace of God, go I.” He kissed his pendant and then put it back in his shirt. “I was arrogant. I don’t know if I can kill him now.”

Kemlo shrugged. “If it comes to it, it’d be a mercy killing. Console yourself with that.” 

“Zeke is right, we’re just an afterthought.” Hitch pressed her fingers to her forehead, a headache starting up behind her eyes. “That’s what’s so galling… we’re going to end up being destroyed just because they all want to use us to kill each other. Stein doesn’t even care about Alliance Town, he just wants Engels.”

“And you.” Kemlo supplied, helpfully.

Hitch raised an eyebrow. “Yes, also me. Thank you.”

Levi looked her up and down. "I don't get it."

Pieck slapped his shoulder with the back of her hand. "Tch. Don't be mean."

Levi looked at her, affronted. "I didn't mean Hitch was the issue.”

"No Levi's right." Hitch said. "What does a guy like that see in me? I even told him. I'm not exactly unobtainable. I mean, he's obtained me already."

“Hitch, you’re the last thing he has of Stohess.” Pieck said. “‘She’s one of ours. She’s from Stohess.’ It was so intimate and possessive. Well that explains it.”

Hitch sighed. “I did the exact wrong thing sleeping with him.”

“Yes.” Levi said. “But also, who knows?” Levi turned to Pieck. “Thoughts?”

“Obviously conflicted about what he’s doing now. He hides the conflict well at least among strangers. I'm surprised. I wouldn't have guessed from my first impression.” Pieck shook her head ruefully. “He's probably going to leave a trail of wreckage and then get himself killed or kill himself. Sounds like he’s planned his exit strategy already. ‘I won’t be troubling you for much longer?’” 

"Eren take two. Dead eyed stare and all.” Levi said. “We have to find the real bastard. The one who thinks this man is his devil."

Pieck smiled at the Garrison Lieutenant. “Thank you Kemlo. Your perspective was invaluable. We missed the mark here.”

“You guys were all taking Hitch’s lead and she really hates the Yeagerists. I’m not saying I blame her but I guess I don’t see things the same way. I just think almost everyone is just trying to get by with what they have.” He turned to Hitch. “When Pieck asked you what you saw in him, you said ‘you didn’t know.’ Right? Maybe it’s because you’re thinking of him as he is now instead of as he was. He nearly got himself killed multiple times trying to uphold the peace in Stohess for everyone in it, without regard for who they were or what they believed even though he knew the city was on fire. That’s pretty principled. Maybe that’s what you liked about him? And then he betrayed what you liked about him because he threw in with the people you hate.”

Hitch rubbed her eyes, feeling deeply unsettled. “Yeah.”

The five of them lapsed into silence. Eberhardt looking cowed, Pieck and Levi thoughtful, Kemlo quietly agitated, no doubt his thoughts on his family. Hitch glanced between all of them, still unable to make sense of a single feeling inside her.

“I withdraw my statement about him being rancid.” Levi said finally. “I still wouldn’t want you dating him, though.”

“Well.” Hitch said. “I don’t know if I have a choice. Or rather, I don’t want to make the choice that puts Alliance town or Nedley in more danger.”

Levi stepped towards her. “What?”

“I’m going to try to give him a reason to stay in Mitras.”

Pieck shook her head, looking at Hitch sadly. “You don’t have to do this.”

Hitch closed her eyes. _Annie._ “No, I think I do.”

—

“Karl.” Hitch waved him over. Stein was standing in among a dozen men and women with a fanatical, violent look about them. “Kemlo and I have been assigned a billet in the city by the commissioner.”

“Kemlo?”

“The Garrison Lieutenant you met the first day. We finished our escort job so I’m going to be assigned light duty in the South-East precinct in a couple days.”

Stein nodded then shook his head. “Why are you telling me this?”

She pressed a piece of paper into his hand. “Meet me at this park. Tonight at seven. Alone.” She rocked to her toes to kiss the side of his mouth.

He looked at her for a beat, then grabbed behind her head and pulled her into a kiss, wrapping his other arm around her back and deepening the kiss with painful desperation.

She laid her hands against his chest, hesitating. _Jean._ She pushed him back and he went, stopping as soon as she’d put up resistance. “Woah, okay.” She laughed nervously. “Down boy.” She looked up at him as he looked down at her, his blue eyes a little unfocused. “Tonight.” She said simply and walked away, feeling his fingers trail along her arm to her hand to keep their contact as long as he could.

Hitch swallowed. She tried not to dwell on the warmth pooling in her stomach and the shakiness in her knees as she walked back to their conference chamber through the echoing and mostly empty hallway.

When she was finally safe among the Alliance delegation, she leaned back up against a wall, her head in her hands.

"A king, long ago, used a mare in heat to distract his enemies' stallions as they charged during battle and won. This situation sort of reminds me of that. Look at that, he's struggling to even follow a sentence now.” Pieck said.

Hitch looked up. Her and Levi were at the door, surreptitiously watching the activity in the hall beyond it.

Pieck patted Hitch's shoulder. "Keep torturing him, Hitch. We might win this war after all. You're rendering our toughest enemy functionally useless."

Hitch hid her head in her hands and groaned. “Why me?”

“Did he just walk away from his advisors in the middle of them talking to him?”

“Yes he did. Look at that train of frustrated, gesticulating assholes.”

“Goodness. Stein has a lot of handlers.” Pieck said. “That's quite the nest of vipers around him."

“They’re feeding him bullshit.”

Pieck raised her eyebrows at Levi. “Then he must need a lot of bullshit.”

“To be effective fighting your enemy, you have to understand them. The more you understand them, the more effective you are. But once you understand them that deeply, it’s hard not to love them. Stein’s very effective. So he needs a wave of bullshit to keep him moving forward.” Levi raised an eyebrow back at Pieck, grabbing her hand. "Let's play ‘spot the head bastard.’”

“What do I get if I win?” Pieck smiled at Levi.

He smiled back, chuckling. “Guess.”

Pieck pursed her lips and turned back to the window. “I’ll take that bet.”

“I get the same if I win.” Levi warned.

Pieck dropped her smile, all business. “I’m not seeing a definite leader yet.” Pieck looked back at Hitch. "They were glaring daggers at you earlier, Hitch."

Hitch half frowned. "I know."

"Do you think they'll actually try to kill her."

Eberhardt narrowed his eyes at Levi.

Pieck waved him off and smiled impishly at Levi. “What do you think he’d do if they tried?”

“Kill them in excruciating and inventive ways.” Levi said. “After listening to that confession I’m pretty sure she's the safest person here. What they'll do, if they’re smart, is try to get her away from him.”

Pieck tapped his arm. “Oh, I think this is the bastard."

Hitch glanced up. Both Pieck and Levi were back watching the hall through the small window intently.

“Yes, you’re exactly right Pieck, look at that submissive body language. They’re all deferring to him. So we have a face now. I think we should leave, though. We’re pushing our luck.” Levi said. “We don’t want him spotting us together.” Levi turned around, glancing between all of them. “We have our assignments.”

“Kemlo and I will check in at our billet.” Hitch turned to Eberhardt. “You can’t come with us. The delegation proper is restricted to the Capitol district. I’m sorry Ebby. This is where we part.”

“I’ll do every thing I can to keep her safe.” Kemlo held his hand out to Eberhardt. The two men shook hands. “My family depends on this working.”

“This is dangerous.” Eberhardt growled, leaning closer to Hitch. “Even if Stein doesn’t do anything, what do you think that passel of devils around him is going to do to you?”

She caught his hands in her own and lifted them. “Ebby if I die, find a woman who looks suspiciously like me, marry her and have a dozen stuffy, straight laced children.”

“Suspiciously like you?” Eberhardt shook his head at her, frowning. “You are convinced I’m secretly in love with you, ma’am.”

“Of course you are. Obviously I’m irresistible.” Hitch sighed. “It’s a curse. Alright. I don’t want to do this. Not at all. Karl is a Yeagerist and not just a Yeagerist, the worst Yeagerist scum. But as much as I want to stay away from him… I want to keep the Yeagerists away from my home even more.” _Away from Annie and Armin._

_And Jean._

—Norden Valley—

“How can Mikasa and myself help when we have to fall back?”

Historia walked up to Brandeis in the camp. He was sat out in front of his tent on a sandbag, drinking coffee and reading papers dropped off by Falco and Connie earlier in the day. It was a quiet evening, the sky slowly darkening. Around her she listened to the murmur of soldiers gossiping and playing games over the ever-present rush of water.

“Sniping. Maybe.” Brandeis said. “If you can handle that. It takes a particular type of mentality. Do you have any experience with long distance shooting?”

“I’ve shot wolves that were preying on my cattle. They’re pretty canny so you have to be patient and stealthful.” Historia said. “And you don’t get second chances so you have to have good aim.” Historia frowned. “I don’t like killing wolves. They are very loyal and passionate. It’s like killing a person, almost.”

“You gotta do what you gotta do.” Brandeis inclined his head towards their headquarters—a sand bagged box in the ground. “When you have time, go talk to Emil. He’ll see if he can use you.”

Historia nodded, then she looked towards the cabin housing Kettler. The army engineers had constructed it in half a day out of felled trees. It wasn’t big or elaborate but it was sufficient for holding him in what was, frankly, the most comfortable place in the camp.

“You ready to talk to him?” Brandeis asked.

“Why hasn’t Stein joined up with them?”

“I don’t know. He’s the wild card. Onyakopon says his army is camped out in the south east, no apparent movement.” Brandeis shook his head. “There are ways around this barricade, particularly for someone ruthless who is willing to risk you dying. Unlike Mitras and Kettler. The Tyber spies came through with records of Stein’s engagements. He’s young but he’s commanded two devisions for several years now. He’s brilliant, and one hundred precent offence. I’m untested as a field commander. I only have experience with a defensive war. Of course, a defensive war with no way to get a decisive victory is the ugliest war imaginable; it’s won by whichever side can endure continuous defeat best. Continuous losses.” Brandeis leaned down to look her in the eye. “He’s got the stomach for it, though. Walking past that massacre proved it. The longer he stays away, the better for us. Whatever’s keeping him away, I hope it continues.”

“Do you still believe we can win this?”

Brandeis looked out at the field between themselves and the enemy. “We can set up our defensive line, we can maintain it, but at the end of the day I don’t know if we can feed it for years. Of course all we want to do is show them that it’s not worth it to try us. And these two don’t really want to be here either.” He shrugged. “No one has an army big enough to control the entire island. Just big enough for each of us to destroy the others trying. We can make ourselves so hard to kill no one wants to try but I don’t think we’ll ever win. Remember, we’re just an afterthought. They’re really trying to get Stein and Engels to heel. By getting you and Reiner.”

“Which brings us to him.” Historia inclined her head at the cabin.

“His best bet is to convince you to leave. Don’t be fooled.” Brandeis said. “Don’t negotiate from a position of weakness. It’s better to make them force you than concede at a threat of force.”

Historia saw Mikasa returning with a squad from a patrol. She watched the other woman share a canteen with her fellow soldiers, who joked with her while she smiled shyly, occasionally joining in the horseplay in a slightly awkward way.

Historia felt her heart clench with guilt. Her fingers brushed the journal in her pocket.

“You okay?” Brandeis asked.

“I have to go talk to Mikasa about something.” Historia said.

“Don’t wait too long to talk to Kettler.”

She glanced at him and shook her head, “I’ll do it today.” She started off towards her friend.

“Mikasa!” She called as she neared. Mikasa looked up from where she and the other solders were watching one of their comrades preform magic tricks with cards and coins then stood and trotted over to Historia. “I wanted to talk to you.” Historia said as they walked towards their shared tent. “About Reiner.”

Mikasa went stiff, her face pale.

Historia stopped her, holding her shoulder. “Don’t get upset. I already know what’s happening.” She slipped her hand into the interior pocket of her greatcoat. “I took something I shouldn’t have.” She handed it to Mikasa. “I’m sorry I intruded into your relationship with Reiner, I didn’t know at the time.”

Mikasa took the journal, looking utterly non-pulsed.

“This is his journal. I found it in his office. I figured you should have it. I’m really sorry for taking it.” Historia wrapped her hands over Mikasa’s.

“Hey, that’s some luck.” One of Mikasa’s fellow soldiers trotted towards them, a young, freckly man. “We’ve been looking for some paper for one of his magic tricks.” He inclined his head back to the others with a grin.

Mikasa nodded and flipped the journal open to a blank page.

“What are you doing?” Historia stopped Mikasa before she could tear the page out. She stared at the taller woman, astounded and horrified. “That’s his journal.”

Mikasa looked at her, confused.

Historia’s stomach clenched as anger rose in her. “Do you even care about him?”

Mikasa looked at her, then shook her head, looking helpless.

“I don’t think you’d cut up the scarf Eren gave you just so someone needed it for a napkin Mikasa.” Historia could feel her hackles rising. “Do you care about Reiner?”

Mikasa hesitated. “No.” She said finally. “Not like you.“

“I could accept the situation with Eren, you loved him so overwhelmingly there was no room for me at all.” Historia grabbed the journal from Mikasa’s hands. “But now I am second again, with someone you don’t care about.”

Historia stalked past Mikasa towards their tent. Before she’d gotten ten paces, she felt Mikasa’s hand on her shoulder.

Historia rounded on her. “If you don’t care, are you going to let me have him?”

Mikasa’s shoulders slumped. She shook her head, her dark eyes beseeching. “I can’t.”

“Fine.” Historia slapped her hand away. She turned again and again Mikasa tried to stop her by catching her shoulder.

This time Historia didn’t turn around, she glared at the ground, her jaw clenching as a wave of fury rose in her. “You don’t care about him but you won’t let him go. Explain it to me?”

“I can’t.”

“You don’t care but you can’t let him go. And you can’t explain.” Historia pressed her knuckles into her eyes. “If you can’t explain, then leave me alone. Don’t follow me.” She shoved out of Mikasa’s grip and ran to their tent, yanking open the front flap and bolting inside. She stopped short in the warmer, oil and canvas smelling air inside. She stared up at the roof until her anger receded and she fell to her knees. She held the journal to her chest, her throat closing off as her eyes stung. She’d felt powerless before, but this was so much worse. Now she was powerless and she couldn’t understand _why_ Mikasa was doing this to her.

—Mitras, Residential District—

“Oh my god.” Hitch said.

“What?” Stein glanced around.

They sat at a bench table in a tiny bit of green space ringed with trees. Hitch had made sandwiches and soup for the both of them, something she’d used to do years before because Stein was hopeless at cooking. He usually bought warm apple cider and donuts for her by way of thanks. He was wearing a dark grey greatcoat with the collar turned up against the wind. When she’d arrived she found him waiting; more punctual than she was and she had thought it was a crime how good he looked in it. She herself wore a long skirt and a peasant blouse under a tight bodice, although the effect was hidden by the long jacket she had to wear overtop it all for the cold.

“Look at that travesty.” Hitch waved at a woman passing by. “Excuse me ma'am. I’m an MP, I’m stopping you to inform you you've been the victim of a tragic accident."

"I'm sorry?"

"Those shoes. With that hat. One of them has got to go as peace between them is not possible. Trust me."

The woman stared at her in confusion before recognition dawned. “You impertinent wretch! I’ll report you to the constabulary!”

“I’m just trying to help, ma’am. Serve and protect. From fashion disaster!” Hitch called after her as the woman hustled away, indignant. “Goddamn, if she’s going to wear a hat that’s the equivalent of one year’s grain ration while people are starving at the gate, can’t she at least chose something that doesn’t look like it’s eating her head? Or maybe shitting her out?”

She turned back. Stein was laughing quietly. With a jolt Hitch was reminded of the Stein she knew in Stohess and just why she’d agreed to date him way back when. “You should smile more often Karl, it’s devastating when you do.”

“Not much to smile about.” He replied, his face resuming its blank, unfeeling quality.

She watched him, noticing something she’d missed before: He was bigger than she remembered. Broader and, most unsettling, he’d gained in height. “Did you get taller?” Her stomach sank. _Shit. How old was he?_ She’d always assumed mid-twenties but then… Reiner looked a decade older than he actually was, two if he was tired and Stein had a similar build and quality to his face. She knew he was part of the 106 trainee corps. She’d always thought he’d been an older recruit.

Karl shrugged. “Maybe a little.”

“How old were you the last time we were together?” Hitch’s mouth went dry. _Please say at least eighteen._

“Close to eighteen I think. I don’t remember my birthday exactly. I lost my parents when Wall Maria was destroyed and all my papers. I forgot a lot after that. I’m pretty sure I was born in spring though. And that I was seven or eight when it fell.”

Hitch shifted uncomfortably. _I am a cradle robber._ They’d never really talked that much about their pasts before, the intense and increasing complexity of their work as MPs had occupied almost all of their conversations. She’d known he was a Wall Rose orphan; one of the smaller number orphaned directly by Reiner’s actions destroying Wall Rose, rather than the larger number created by Mitras’ sending their parents to die reclaiming Wall Rose territory. Other than that he’d been a quiet mystery.

He leaned his arm on the picnic table, crouching around his food and eating with the focus of a wild animal, regularly glancing around for threats. As a Wall Rose orphan he’d experienced extended starvation, almost all of them had. Hitch noted that behaviour had gotten worse too.

When they were done and the night was growing too cold to stay out, they walked along the street towards Hitch’s billet. She caught his hand to hold it; his hands were big, like Jean’s, but the fingers were blunter, less graceful. Despite the cold his hands were warm.

“Do you remember the last case we were working on?” Stein asked.

“Yes. Missing child.”

“We never closed it.”

Hitch hesitated. She’d forgotten. “That’s right.”

“I remember how anxious I was to solve it. I hated the missing kids cases. It seemed like the biggest, most important thing I could do at the time. And then two weeks later it wasn’t. It was just one more sad story in a city drowning in them. So many you couldn’t make cases out of any of them.”

She had no idea what to say to that. She squeezed his hand and he squeezed back. They continued on, after awhile she recognized the corner and stopped.

“This is me.” She nodded at the brick townhouse she’d been assigned to with Kemlo. The actual owners weren’t around so they had it entirely to themselves aside from the servants who kept it up.

“Hm.” Stein said, looking up at it. He glanced at her. “Goodnight then.”

“Wait.” Hitch didn’t look at him as she stepped closer, running his lapels through her fingers. “Come in.”

She resolved not to enjoy it.

Immediately she realized that would be a problem. If she wasn’t enjoying herself, he picked up on it no matter how competently she thought she was faking it. His perceptiveness blindsided her, but maybe it shouldn’t have. She had noticed he’d spent their entire time in the park covertly observing everyone around them, attuned to the slightest shift in energy.

As peaceful and ordered as Mitras appeared to be, he obviously didn’t trust it for a second, likely a survival mechanism leftover from Stohess; it was his constant vigilance that made him seem predatory too.

The third or forth time he stopped to ask her what was wrong, she’d grabbed his face between her hands in annoyance, “Don’t ask!” _Because I’m cheating on my boyfriend, you numbskull. With a probable psychopath, to stop you from killing my friends. So stop caring and let me fake it._

He stopped asking. But then he started doing something that was worse; he weaponized his perceptiveness, rapidly figuring out what she couldn’t help responding to and doing more of it. As she deteriorated into a shivering, panting mess, not enjoying it became rapidly unobtainable so she settled on hating herself for enjoying it.

“This isn’t fair.” She gasped. “What about you?”

“Seeing you like this is fine.” He smiled one of his genuine smiles, not the painful rictus he had whenever he was in danger or uncomfortable.

When he did that it was hard not to feel like she was with her fellow MP and partner, a man she’d always somewhat admired for his principles. And felt very safe around. She lay her head on his chest and he stroked her hair.

As the evening deepened to night, she discovered that Stein slept like the dead, which genuinely surprised her. She thought he’d be a light sleeper. She unwound her limbs from his and scooted over to sit at the edge of the bed. Asleep he looked so young it made her heart ache, and made her feel awful for lying to him. If Jean was bad… Stein was two years younger. At least.

She pulled her nightgown on and kicked her feet into her slippers and wandered in the semi dark up the steep, narrow stairs to the top landing and the balcony that opened onto the roof. The thin wood and glass door creaked as she opened it and stepped out into the darkness, here and there lifted by street lamps. It was a crisp night and clear. She could see all the way to Mitras’ walls ringing the entire city. None of them had been made with Titans. The walls gave her a feeling of security that she hadn’t realized she missed until it was back. Maybe some of the island’s seething unrest was inspired by the ever-present feeling of naked vulnerability caused by the fall of the walls.

She stared up at the stars and wondered what Jean was doing. If he was safe. If he was going to be able to get home. If she’d see him again. If what she was doing was actually helping him at all or just an awful betrayal.

After awhile she sat on the cold balcony floor, pulled her knees up to her chest and hid her head in her hands, sobbing. “I’m sorry Jean.”

After her sobs eased she rested her head against her knees. Jean made her feel warm and alive. By contrast Karl felt cold and dry and Hitch was quite sure she could pour all of herself into him and not make a single bit of difference. Not because he was evil, but because he was so silently desperately empty.

She heard a footfall and braced herself, thinking it might be Stein. Instead it was Kemlo. He exited onto the balcony, a bottle of clear spirits in one hand and two shot glasses in another.

“I’m going to meet up with my family tomorrow. Your contacts are already working on exit visas for them. Thank you.” Kemlo poured her a shot and offered it to her. “Here, you look like you need it.”

She gulped it down and gasped in disgust. “That’s vile.”

“It does the job.”

“Give me another.” She swallowed the thin saliva gathering in her mouth from her sudden nausea and raised her shot glass to him.

He topped it up for her. “You’re very brave.”

She sipped her shot and immediately regretted it; taking it slow solidified the taste in her mouth. She swallowed the whole thing down, suppressing a gag. “For spreading my legs?” She said as she coughed. “I don’t think so.”

“For opening your heart to something that can only end in tragedy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stein: … Hitch…  
> Stein’s advisors: To horny jail with you! Bonk! 
> 
> Also;
> 
> Jean: Why am I in bed with you Reiner?  
> Reiner(hungover): I don’t remember.  
> Eren: You both played gay chicken, you stupid horse.  
> Eren: …  
> Eren: And I won.  
> Jean: *confused horse noises*
> 
> Reading between the lines, Paradis ended up having a generation of orphans. Not just as a direct result of Reiner’s actions but also because of the choices of the government to send 100k people out to die because they didn’t have enough food (which we later learn was probably bullshit, the people at the very center of this shithole society wanted to keep their standard of living intact at the expense of everyone else.) It appears the only way a lot of these orphans could get a consistent supply of food and any kind of social structure was to enter the military at 12. So… we have a generation of orphaned child soldiers who have experienced the loss of everything they knew as a result of Marley’s actions and have been trained to regard violence as a primary solution to problems. No wonder they’re pretty hateful towards anyone from outside the walls! Or anyone who sympathizes with them. Or anyone.
> 
> Right now Hitch and crew have no idea about the massacre of civilians outside Nedley. Also, Stein is the probable suspect, however there are are actually five forces in operation in that area. 
> 
> Did Eren become irredeemable when he directly and knowingly targeted civilians including children? Dying in a collapsed building is a gruesome and lingering death. Attack on Titan is one hell of a brutal series. :\
> 
> I have updated my head cannon and I now think Hitch is a little older than Reiner and a year older than Annie. I figure she was an older recruit, maybe in her mid to late teens when she went into the cadet corps. She’s one of the few characters alluded to have had sex in the series (without being a parent of other characters)so I feel like she’d also be one of the oldest. Partly because implying a 15-16 year old slept her way up the ladder seems a tad unsavoury, even for the crapsack world that is Paradis. 
> 
> Also, I’m contractually obligated to write Reiner kissing Jean in a hilarious context at least once per fic.


	15. Love the one you're with

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with.

—Ten days post declaration of war—

—Mascarene Islands, North of Paradis, Early evening—

“I challenge you.” Reiner pointed to Beatrice. “To a fight to the death.”

Shock and quickly concealed concern darkened her expression. She lifted her chin, haughtily, looking down at him from where she was reclining on her seat made of nailed together planks, covered with throw rugs. She was the only thing imperial in the entire makeshift arena, always maintaining that aloof, imposing air even on that shambles of a throne. She had two of the prettiest girls on the island under each arm and pressed to her side. She’d spent the night alternating between petting and kissing one or the other to the cheers of her assembled privateers. Reiner noticed they were even more out of control than ever; at his announcement they’d started breaking out in fights and general mayhem.

“To the death?” Beatrice laughed at him. “You want to die? Ridiculous.”

“Are you afraid?” Reiner smirked. The crowd answered his words with a cheer of incredulity at his bravado and then silence followed as they waited for their leader to give her answer.

She glanced around the assembly then at him. He knew she was hesitating, not due to fear but what she could lose if she killed him. He also knew she couldn’t be seen to be incapable of rising to any challenge. She stood. “To the death then.” She strode down the stairs from her seat to the sandy pit, looking every inch the violent predator. She didn't even bother to remove her knife or pistol. He knew she wouldn't use either--unless he baited her just right--she could beat him to death with just her fists. Leaving them on was just a way of showing contempt for him by allowing him access to weapons.

Reiner stood, his fists steaming as his broken knuckles healed. She waited with languid patience until he was fit again and then began.

Her hits were monstrous, not as powerful as Brandeis’ but precisely targeted to his weak spots. When they landed it felt like she was shattering his bones. If he hadn’t been a shifter, she would have killed him with her first few strikes; instead she sent him staggering and then spinning down to the dirt. Thanks to Brandeis agonizing training, he got back on his feet before he could register he’d even gone to the ground.

He stood, shaking, the world spinning around him and she laughed at him. “You thought you were a match for me?” She stepped up, catching his chin in one hand, stroking his hair with the other. “We’ll go until you concede defeat.”

He chuckled and caught her under her arm, driving forward with all the force he could muster and sending them both to the ground, himself pinning her side, his legs splayed wide to keep her down. He leaned close to her face as she struggled against his strength and leverage. “What were you planning to do? Get pregnant, have the kid, dump him off with me to raise with whatever was left of your fleet? And go die in glorious battle with your brother?” Reiner hesitated. “Actually that’s not a bad idea. Having a kid and then I raise it. We could do that.”

There was a lull in the aggressive energy as she blinked up at him in confusion. “Really?”

“Except for the war part.” He added hastily. “I can’t support that.”

“All or nothing.” She hissed, shoving him away and then coming at him with an elbow to the side of the head.

He managed to block it on his forearm but the power of the blow rocked him backwards and sent a spike of pain through his arm, followed by numbness. Steam billowed off of it and he was fairly certain she’d broken it.

She sprang back to her feet and he stumbled to his.

She advanced and he fell back, keeping his distance from her so she couldn’t press her advantage while he worked the numbness out of his fingers.

“Are you ready to concede?” She asked mockingly.

Instead of addressing her, Reiner addressed the crowd. “She’s lying to you. You’re privateers, not an army and yet she’s going to take you to your deaths in a pointless war because she has no plan for the future. She does not know where to lead you next. You could have wealth and pride again, but she chooses death.” He watched a mutter ripple through the crowd as they turned to each other, confused. He looked back at Beatrice. “Because she’s a coward.”

“Shut up.” She grabbed him and snarled in his face. “There is no next.”

“You’ve given up.” He said.

She glared at him. “This world is dying. There’s nothing to give up on.”

“The world is always dying.” He offered her one of his pained smirks. “And being reborn. You’d rather die in a pointless war than face the unknown.” He bared his teeth at her. “You’re a coward.”

Fury flashed in her eyes. “I’m not a coward. There’s no hope.”

“Then kill me. What worth do I have to you if everything is doomed?” He shoved her away and threw his arms wide. He called out to the crowd. “She can’t kill me. But she can kill all of you. Because she’s invested her hope in me, but not you.”

Silence. He could almost hear hundreds of eyes turn to Beatrice in question and then anger.

She looked around at all of them, her shoulders falling. “No.” She whispered. “That’s not true.”

“She says it’s not true.” He turned from her to address the crowd with a smug grin of triumph. “Demand she proves it.”

Behind him he heard a war cry of pure rage. He managed to spin and block her wrist, turning the knife, but then he forced himself to let it happen and she recovered, stabbing him in the stomach.

He kept his feet, catching her arm and bracing himself, in the second before the full force of the pain hit. “This won’t kill me.” He gasped. He clutched her shoulders, pulling her close, spitting blood in her face as he growled at her. “Finish the fight.”

She unholstered her modified Mauser and thrust it against his forehead, snarling. “Don’t think I won’t.”

“To the death.” He whispered. He could feel the crowd around them, jostling with a low thrill over the death they might witness. “Do it. Destroy everything, right down to your last hope for the future.”

She stared at him for a long moment, her breath heaving as she struggled with internal conflict. Her fury receded from her eyes heart beat by heart beat until it was replaced with horror. She stepped back, letting her pistol hand drop. “No.”

With every breath he felt like he was being knifed again; he fought through the pain to grab the hilt, pulling it out felt like his guts were being dragged out with it. He had to grab her arm to keep himself upright. Once the knife was out, relief from his shifter healing hit him so hard it was like he’d climaxed. He shuddered and spat blood out into the sand. He glared at her as he caught his breath and his body regained its vitality. “There’s hope and you know it. And it matters to you more than even your own honour.” He caught her shoulders again, digging his fingers in. “If you can’t kill me, you have no right to kill them.” He swept her leg and caught her as she fell backwards, her reflexes suddenly sloppy. She stared up at him in shock as the crowd roared their surprise and excitement at this change of fortunes. “There’s more than one way to kill a person.” He dipped her further back until she was forced to cling to his shoulders to have any semblance of control. As the crowd screamed themselves hoarse in glee at the drama, he kissed her. “We’ve done this your way. Now we’re doing it my way.”

—

“How much further?” Jean called. He was riding atop a bored, plodding pony that was somewhat too short for him. He could almost dismount it by simply dropping his feet to the ground and stepping off.

Ronal turned around in the saddle of her own pony, giving him another of her patient ‘how many times do I have to tell you I don’t know your language’ looks.

She gestured forwards, “Kita hampir sampai.”

Jean squinted at the trail ahead of them. The dense jungle undergrowth made it impossible to see more than about ten feet ahead of them, but it did seem like it was thinning out into a clearing.

They broke through the last screen of leaves and Jean gasped. The clearing was atop a high cliff overlooking a bay. The waters of the bay were a brilliant blue, almost surreal in the intensity of the blue, here and there shading to deeper indigo from submerged rock. The cliffs were stark white like chalk and had a soft, creamy texture; he almost wished he could run his fingers over them. Jean watched Ronal dismount and simply drop her pony’s halter. The beast immediately put its head down and chomped on the grass in the clearing. Jean followed suit, hopping off his pony and dropping the reins.

In the centre of the clearing sitting on a flat, white rock was a man. Eldian or Marleyan, Jean figured, with dark red hair salted with white, brown eyes, and a substantial beard. He wore a men’s lilac grey suit in an older continental style; it looked well tailored if worn. He waved at them, breaking into a smile. “Hullo!”

Ronal urged Jean towards him.

Jean approached the man cautiously. “Hi.”

“My name is Thiébaut.” The man said. “You must be Jean.”

“Yes. Are you in charge?” Jean asked.

“Oh no, Ronal is in charge. Or possibly Lagi when she’s indisposed. I just go wherever they go and work as their translator and cartographer. They rescued me from certain death when the ship I was on, the Trident, ran aground on the shoals of a deserted island.” Thiébaut scooted over on the rock and patted a spot for Jean. Ronal rolled out a rattan mat and sat on her knees by the rock. She was surprisingly spry for a woman who looked to be in her seventies.

Jean sat beside Thiébaut and watched as he picked up a small pot he had over an oil burner, pouring out three cups of tea. He handed one to Ronal, who nodded at him as she received it.

“Sadly I’m the only one left of the original crew of the Trident.” Thiébaut said, handing the second cup to Jean.

Jean took his tea and brought it to his lips for a sip. It was floral and savoury with a hint of spice. He decided he liked it. “What happened to the rest of them.”

“Eaten.”

“Oh.” Jean choked a bit on a swallow of tea and stared at him in horror. “By Titans?”

“Mostly by each other, actually.” Thiébaut said blithely.

Jean blanched and felt an entirely different kind of horror. “I see. And you survived that?”

Thiébaut smiled. “I did.”

“Ho—“ Jean cut himself off from asking. “Well good for you.” He looked at Ronal and gestured his confusion and horror at her. She smiled placidly at him and spoke.

“Ah.” Thiébaut nodded. “She says, ‘Jean, Reiner’s lover--‘“

“No.” Jean said swiftly, lifting his hand and bringing it down as if he was cutting something with the edge. “Right there. That’s incorrect.”

Thiébaut and Ronal spoke back and forth rapidly, Ronal looking perplexed.

“You’re thinking because of what happened at the hotel. That was a one time thing to throw off the pirates. I have a girlfriend. He has three. It's platonic on his side. I mean my side. I mean both our sides." Jean hesitated. "If I were really drunk maybe. Well, maybe not really drunk but at least slightly tipsy. But that’s a theoretical. Which is irrelevant.” Jean took a breath. “He’s my friend.” He said forcefully.

Thiébaut translated what Jean had said to Ronal.

Ronal smiled and spoke. Thiébaut nodded at her, listening.

"She says 'Reiner's friend who would be his lover if he was drunk.'"

"Just friend." Jean said quickly. "Admittedly it's a little more sloppy than that but we don't need accuracy. The horse is a sphere. QED.”

Ronal patted his arm with a smile of infinite patience and spoke again.

"Reiner's friend." Thiébaut translated.

Jean nodded approval.

Thiébaut shook his head at Jean.

"What are you doing that for?” Jean groused, folding his arms over his chest and glaring at Thiébaut.

Thiébaut spread his hands wide. “I’m no stranger to compromise for the sake of companionship. Or survival.”

“Never tell me about any of your compromises. Ever. You know what, let's move on.Surely this conversation has an actual point? Actually wait.” Jean unfolded his arms and gestured towards Ronal. “There is something I’d like to talk to her about. Do you think she could tell Reiner’s cult to give him some more personal space. He’s a little over burdened in the attention department, shall we say.”

“She says they are trying to lay hands to help him heal.”

“I think that one girl, Talia, might doing more than just laying hands. And if he can’t remember what she is doing, she might want to stop doing it.”

“Ronal says she’ll talk to her. But Talia was instructed to watch over him only.”

“Alright.” Jean waved his hand up. “What did you bring me here for then?”

Thiébaut spoke to Ronal while she listened carefully and then responded.

“Lagi and Vaea have left with a few of the other men to get the Trident. Oh.” Thiébaut leaned close to Jean. “They got the Trident seaworthy again. I gave it to them as their own since I had no further use for it without them to crew it. It’s been anchored off shore on the other side of the island.”

“You have a boat.” Jean said.

Thiébaut nodded. “Yes. A clipper, one of the fastest under sail.”

“And it’s crewed by Reiner’s cult.”

“I think they prefer the term acolytes. Or disciples.”

“What I’m getting at, is that it goes wherever he wants it to, right?”

Thiébaut spoke to Ronal, Ronal nodded at him, then nodded at Jean. “Yes.” She said.

—Alliance Town, Arlert’s personal office—

"There's a board already set up over there." Zeke nodded through the double glass doors to the games table on Armin’s balcony.

"That's the last game I was playing with Reiner. When he comes back we're finishing it." Armin said. "Besides I wouldn't let you touch that board, that's mine and Reiner's board."

Zeke laughed, tapping a bishop against the small games table Armin had set up in front of his desk. "I see. Well, whatever makes you feel better about cheating on him with me. You know I’m not really good at this game. We could play checkers. Or go outside for some catch.”

“I’m not taking you outside, someone’ll kill you. Why did you bring a plant?”

Zeke looked at the ficus he’d placed in the chair beside him. He had a spray bottle of water beside it. “Cleans the air, improves the energy of a room, it’s calming to take care of.” He patted a leaf. “I call her Yelena.”

Armin looked at the plant, then back at Zeke. “Did we not provide you enough human company?”

“Is Yelena bothering you?”

“Well, now that I know it’s called that I do find it creepier. Just… take it with you when you leave.” Armin grimaced; he pulled out a box of checkers. “This is a kids’ game.”

“I guess so.” Zeke set up his side, Armin followed suit then they quickly made their first few moves. “With chess you always know what your opponent’s goal is; what piece you have to capture to win the game. It appeals to the military mind. There’s deception, of course, but clarity at the same time. Motives and goals are clear. Both you and Reiner are military-minded in a way, even though you both hate violence. You’re forthright. And I know how surprising it is to say that about Reiner.” Zeke picked up and set down another checker. Armin did the same. “There’s a bit of ambiguity to checkers because you never know which piece will win the game; none of them are the goal. There’s also a lower margin of error; if you make a mistake, you don’t recover from it. Politics is about ambiguity; the one who wins is the one who can create and maintain the greatest ambiguity while stripping away his opponent’s. And not just ambiguity with your enemy, but your allies, friends and fellow citizens as well. There’s also a lower margin of error; once your goal and motive are uncovered, you are going to lose.” He moved a piece. “We think they care about what we care about. Our king, our town. They don’t. That’s why I said we were an afterthought.”

Armin lifted a checker. “So they don’t want Reiner?” He put it down.

“Oh they probably do. Or they did. It’s just that, he’s not their goal. He’s a step towards their goal. The Steward of Mitras’s goal, and I think we’re dealing with him, ultimately, is to try to maintain what he has.” Zeke moved another piece and scratched his ear. “I can’t help thinking about the Envoy’s behaviour. He was awfully aggressive, like he was baiting us.”

“They wanted us to declare war?” Armin lept over one of Zeke’s pieces, claiming it.

“Not exactly. More like… he wants to present a particular facade in order to manipulate us into thinking there is no ambiguity here.” Zeke shook his head, moving another checker. “He wanted to get us to react to see what we’d do. Mitras is sitting on top of a lot of options. Keeping everything ambiguous serves them. And making things seem cut and dried while keeping everything ambiguous serves them even more.”

Armin stared at the board, then took the piece Zeke had moved. “Then we played into their hand.”

“No. Well, first of all, we didn’t have a choice. We had to react. At the very least to protect Nedley. But I don’t think he expected Historia to rise to the bait.” Zeke moved one of his pieces. “They may not have committed to a strategy until they saw how we reacted. Now it’s unlikely they haven’t committed to a strategy. So we’re now at a point where we can start stripping away their ambiguity.”

Armin rubbed his eyes. Then took another of Zeke’s pieces. “We’re facing three armies. It doesn’t feel like much of an advantage.”

In response Zeke made another move. “Once the Canties entrench, they can bash away at them all they want and get nowhere. We just have to stop them.”

Both of them fell silent as they concentrated on the game, rapidly moving towards some sort of final confrontation as they each lost pieces. Finally Armin took two of Zeke’s in one move.

“Oh.” Zeke’s eyebrows lifted as if he’d had a thought. “If you want to get more aggressive… you could use Falco to drop barrels of explosives on them.”

“I’m not ordering a minor to go on bombing runs.”

“Realistically do you have a choice? He’s one of our major advantages.”

“That’s got to be pushing the line. Would he even be able to transform with that intention?” Armin picked up a checker.

“We could lie to him.”

“No!” Armin slammed his piece down. “It’s not an option.”

“Alright.” Zeke smiled, jumping over four of Armin’s pieces in sequence.

Armin frowned at the board. He had no moves left that wouldn’t result in Zeke taking his final pieces. “Dammit.”

Zeke’s smile broadened. “Consider that I got you to play this game because I knew I’d win.” 

Armin sighed; he reset his side of the now checker board. “How can we succeed against these odds? They hold all the cards.”

“Nah.” Zeke spritzed Yelena with water. “You hold all the aces. You all love each other so much you’d sacrifice anything for each other. As long as you keep doing that, you’ll win.” He finished setting up his side of the board. “Focus on the game this time.”

They spent the next hour playing game after game until Armin got a handle on the strategy and finally won one.

Zeke frowned at him, “Well that didn’t last long. Alright, I think Yelena and I will retire. Shall we do this again tomorrow?”

“Yes. I get up at dawn so we could do it an hour later—“

“Well I don’t. I’m not a morning person. I suppose Reiner was.”

“I don’t know if he ever slept at night really.” Armin muttered. “I think he just took naps on the floor.”

“Like a dog. Yeah. He is weird.”

“He’s weird?” Armin looked at Zeke, shaking his head. “How about noon?”

“I could make that work.” Zeke stood and picked up Yelena. “Goodnight Armin. I’ll see you tomorrow. Wave goodnight, Yelena.” Zeke picked out one of the ficus’ leaves and wiggled it at Armin.

Armin stared at him, gobsmacked. Finally he recovered, grimacing. “Night Zeke. Night… Yelena.” He watched Zeke open the door to his office and exit, flanked by his guards, who’d been standing by Armin’s sofa at the other end of his office. Armin exchanged a horrified glance with them as they walked out the door. He sighed and stood, cleaning the papers left on his desk from the day’s work and picking up his empty cup of coffee. He exited his office and his security detail escorted him back to his apartment in silence. He watched them exchange words with the security posted outside his apartment and he entered when they opened the door for him.

Annie was laying on their couch, reading a book.

“My council is now two traitors and a ficus plant.” Armin said as he approached and sat down beside her. “Named Yelena.”

“Yelena? Seriously?”

“Zeke.” Armin said simply, shaking his head.

“Yeah he’s like Reiner except even more sleazy and creepy.” Annie slipped her hand over his shoulder. “You have me too.”

Armin closed his eyes. “You shouldn’t have to do anything right now.”

“Should you?” Annie slipped her arms around his waist. “You get sick, exhausted, weepy and irritable at the drop of a hat now too. How’d it go?”

“Zeke had me playing checkers of all things.” He sighed. “Although… something about that game is sticking with me. The way Zeke set up the final move in our first game and jumped over almost all of my remaining pieces.” Armin scrubbed his face with his hand. “He’s right, my thinking has been focused too much on Reiner as the linchpin to all this.”

Annie snorted. “Yeah, you value him too much and he values himself too little.”

“Too much? That’s sort of mean, Annie.”

“Mean?” Annie sniffled. Then she started a series of painful choke-sobs that startled Armin and got him feeling the sting of tears too. “Why’d he have to get himself kidnapped? That started all of this.” She fisted his jacket front in her hands and buried her face in his chest. “My nightmares have gotten worse.”

“I’m sorry.” Armin held her shoulders, laying his face against her hair, his eyes wet. “It's my fault we're in this situation.”

“No it’s my fault. You’re right. I’m mean to him.”

“Annie. That's ridiculous. As long as you’ve known him you’ve been mean to him, why would he start caring now?”

“If he comes back I’ll never be mean to him again.”

“You being nice to him? I think that would genuinely scare the crap out of him.” Armin rubbed her back as he cried along with her. He gathered her up into a hug. "Besides, him getting kidnapped really isn't the problem. If anything it solved a problem. So you can't possibly be to blame for any of this."

She nuzzled his neck. "Then you aren't either." 

Armin blinked. “It solved a problem... Wait.” He brushed his tears away with his fingers and pushed her to arm’s length. “What if we found him?”

She wiped her eyes with the heels of her hands. “What?”

He pressed the side of his index finger to his lips. “Zeke talked about stripping away their ambiguity… what if we pretended that we got Reiner back? See how the Envoy reacts?”

—Norden Valley, Alliance Town encampment—

Historia sat on her cot, watching ants crawl through the grass, feeling empty. She’d stoked up the brazier so the tent was warm at least. She heard the swish of canvass and looked up to see Mikasa enter their shared tent.

Mikasa said nothing as she moved over to her cot. She had two mugs of hot tea in her hands. One she placed on the desk between their beds and, after a moment, pushed it towards Historia. The other she cradled in her hands, staring at it without drinking it. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you going to let him go?”

Mikasa shook her head. “I can’t.”

“There’s no point apologizing if you’re not going to change what you’re doing.” Historia closed her eyes. “If I go to Reiner and tell him what you said—“

“He knows.”

“Then he should leave you.”

Mikasa shook her head. “He can’t.”

“God Mikasa.” Historia pressed her forehead into her wrists, her hands balled into fists. “You’re unbelievable. You throw everything away. You going to throw Reiner away. You threw Jean away. You even threw Eren away.”

Mikasa flinched when Historia said it and started to cry silently. Normally Historia would have cared, at that moment she just felt dead inside. “Maybe you do it because you’re scared or you just can’t spit it out or you think you have every chance in the world. I don’t know. Only you know.” Historia wiped her eyes. “But we don’t have every chance in the world. You have a last day with every single person you care about, and you never know when that is.” She stood.

Mikasa looked up. “Where are you going?”

“I said to Brandeis I would talk to Kettler before the day was out.” Historia picked her great coat from her bed and swung it onto her shoulders. “I have work to do.”

“Please don’t go—“

“Why? What’s keeping me here? Is there something more you have to tell me?”

Mikasa stared at her silently, her eyes still brimming with tears.

“Then that’s it. It’s just a political marriage anyway.” Historia shook her head, frowning. “You can have him in every meaningful sense. If he genuinely knows what you’re doing and still can’t leave you then two of you deserve each other. He can’t let go, and you can’t let anyone get close. Maybe that works somehow.” She turned to untie and open the flap. “I don’t think I deserve him more Mikasa. I’m not vapid enough to think that my feelings change anything. I killed his goddamn nation and three quarters of the world, it’s not like he’s going to just get over that.” She paused as she was about to exit. “Do what you want. But… maybe you should stop throwing away your chances before you stop having them.”

—Mitras, South-East Precinct—

“I should have got you out.” Hitch said. She sat up beside Stein, who was naked in her bed. She still felt a twinge of guilt at what she was doing, but it had faded into a dull background ache for the most part. When she got back and Jean knew what she’d done to him she expected her and Jean would be over. Just when she was about to tell Jean she loved him, too. She tried not to think about it because she’d already had to give several awkward explanations to Stein why she randomly burst into tears. Particularly after those moments where he’d managed to make her forget anyone else but him.

She bit her lip and lightly touched his smooth and unscarred shoulder. She learned he did not like her touching his scars; he was deeply ashamed of everything associated with what he considered his failure to save Stohess. Even lying there with his chest exposed in the lamplight was something that had taken time for him to be comfortable with.

He frowned at her. “How? You only got out because you were kidnapped. And you nearly died.”

She closed her eyes. “After I got out I should have come back for you.”

He ran his fingers through her hair. “You couldn’t have convinced me to give up. I’m too stubborn.”

“I’m convincing you now.”

“You’re delaying me. That’s different.”

Hitch looked at him. The way he’d said that, it was almost as if he knew. “You said you needed to go before they entrenched. Seems like I’m more than delaying you. Won’t it be harder to get around them if they do?”

“I’m aware of their defensive capabilities. And I know they’re an army hardened to the reality of a defensive war.” He smiled at her. “It’d be almost impossible. I’d likely die trying.”

“And you’re still here?”

“Yep.”

Hitch felt a stab of fear. “You should go.” The instant it was out of her mouth she couldn’t believe she’d said it. _What am I doing? Have I gone insane?_

He looked at her strangely. “I’ll go before it’s too late. Don’t worry.”

“How do you know that?” She protested.

He put his hand over her mouth. “Stop. Don’t worry about it.”

Hitch pushed his hand away. “Well it’s obvious that you are full of shit when you said I couldn’t have convinced you. I should have gone back for you.”

He shook his head and widened his eyes like she was nuts. She’d noticed he’d started to get a lot less guarded about his emotions. “If you didn’t have backup you would havejust got yourself killed. The people I was with, they might have saved me, but they are extremely possessive.”

“But—“

“Stop!” He put his hand over her mouth again, this time grabbing the back of her neck so she couldn’t push it away. “What’s done is done.” 

She glared at him. _I did have backup. I could have got you out._ Then the feelings that had gripped her eased—she’d been seeing him as the man he was, the man she’d been attracted to and, most importantly, her partner who she never should have left in danger—and she was shaken to realize how close she’d come to alluding to the existence of the Tybur spy network.

She subsided and eventually he released her. She wrapped her arms around her chest, horrified and once again unable to say exactly why. “If you’re so afraid of the people you’re with, why don’t you leave?”

“I’m not afraid of them anymore.” He smiled one of his unpleasant, predatory smiles. “Now they’re afraid of me.”

—Mitras, Central District—

“We’re being tailed.” Levi said to Pieck as they walked down the treed and cobbled main avenue in Central district. Gentlemen and ladies in their finest clothes were taking late evening constitutionals. They both had dressed to blend in, Levi in a suit under a frock coat, Pieck in long skirts and a half cape. They were on their way to meet with one of Hitch’s contacts in the Tybur spy network. Someone who had information on the Steward of Mitras and Stein.

“Yes.” Pieck agreed, tightening her grip on his arm.

“We’ll try to lose them. Follow me.” Levi quickly turned them from the Main Street to an alley connecting the Main Street with one of the less affluent sections of the district. It took a few blocks but they were finally in a warren of more working-class buildings. Not poor but not the stately and organized upper-class townhouses. These brick buildings were smaller and more numerous and instead of graceful cul-de-sacs, had a number of poorly thought out intersecting back alleys, like a bunch of sticks thrown on the ground in a child’s game. As they walked quickly through those alleys Levi surreptitiously watched for their pursuers.

“Did we lose them?” Pieck asked.

“I think almost.” Levi said, then he gripped his leg. It had started to seize with pain. Pieck’s grip on his arm strengthened and she helped him limp to an alley, ducking into the mouth and past several commercial trash bins taller than either of them just inside. The buildings forming the wall of the blind alley had no windows; it was empty of people, filled with garbage and stank of dog piss.

Levi grimaced and leaned up against the brick wall of the alley, massaging the knotted muscle of this thigh. “Shit. They had to have seen us come in here. We’ve got to keep going.”

“No. This is perfect. No one can see.” Pieck said. “Get on.” Pieck angled forward and slapped her backside.

Levi scowled at her. “I don’t see how we’re going to run any faster with you carrying me.”

“We’re not running, we’re climbing.”

He hesitated.

“There’s no time. Get on.”

Levi shook his head, frowning, and carefully stepped behind her. She half bowed in front of him, grabbing his thighs. “Help me a bit.” She said.

He jumped and she managed to catch his weight on her hips, staggering only slightly.

“Huh.” He said, clutching her shoulders.

“I do have a titan shifter’s strength. Now, shh.” Pieck breathed deep and seemed to ready herself. “Jovus, give me strength when I am weak.” She intoned under her breath.

Later Levi couldn’t say exactly what happened. What seemed to happen is that she lunged forward, jumping and somehow landed two feet above the ground, on nothing at all. He felt the heat of her titan shifter powers like he was pressed full length against a furnace. It reminded him, absurdly, of Hange’s final words to Pieck, expressing her desire to ride the titan shifter and feel her heat. He smiled sadly. _Hange, I got to experience your last wish for you._

After the first leap, Pieck just kept going, moving up and up as she jumped from one invisible platform to another. As she went, her breathing started to become ragged. Levi watched the mouth of the alley for their pursuers, worried that someone seeing the strange miracle Pieck was preforming might be worse than being caught again.

Woken by the use of her shifter powers, his Ackerman instincts started to churn inside him with malevolent and aggressive intent. He grit his teeth, he was well used to keeping them in check, although this time the stimulus was strangely intimate.

She heaved them both over the roof parapet. Levi jumped off, his leg ached but this time held up under him. She staggered a few steps away from the edge, her hands on her knees, her breath shuddering through her. Despite her shifter strength, carrying someone fifty pounds heavier up six flights had obviously strained her to the limit.

He caught her under her shoulder, half carrying her as they ran along the parapet, around the back of the tall, steep roof to hide them from their pursuers. Eventually they came to the attic access--a entryway set into the roof--and he pressed her down below the parapet, hiding her and looking through the crenellation.

With her under him, head bowed and her powers like a blanketed coal, his instincts started to bleed out into a different kind of dangerous. He wasted precious seconds lost in the scent of her nape, thinking about what it would be like to bite it while she moaned against him. When he finally regained himself he breathed against her ear, “Stay down, I’m going to pick the lock.”

He crouch walked over to the door, pulling out his lock pick set and getting the tools into the guts as quick as he could. Unbelievably his hands shook, his composure shattered by thoughts of Pieck underneath him, the strong movements of her body against his, the way it made him feel violent and unspeakably lustful all at once. He shook his head, trying to get his focus back. It took more tries than it should have but the lock clicked. He pushed it open and slid inside while making as narrow a silhouette against the lighter night sky as possible. Once inside he sensed only a room sized amount of space from the dark within, full of dusty furniture and crates and no people. He leaned back to wave her in and waited for her to join him, then closed the door as quietly as he could behind them, re-engaging the lock.

Pieck brought out one of the Marleyan flashlights she carried, turning it on. It revealed exactly what Levi’s senses had told him. A moderately large room full of forgotten things. “Turn the light down.”

Pieck twisted a dial and the light turned from a floodlight to a soft glow. Levi carefully crept towards the door that would take them into the building. He checked the lock. “Door’s locked. Let’s leave it. We’ll stay here for a bit, then we’ll leave the way we came in.” He ran a finger over the filthy crate by the door, covered in cobwebs and dust, and sucked his teeth with disgust. “Looks like whoever lives here hasn’t cleaned since the Walls were built.”

“Did you feel that?” Pieck asked. “I’ve never felt that before.”

Levi waved his hand. “Maybe a weird interaction between my Ackerman instincts and your shifter powers.”

“Levi.”

Something in her voice made him turn around; she was staring at him with a furious intensity in her dark eyes. She took two quick steps towards him and caught him behind his neck, kissing him. “I need you.”

He pulled back. “We should be careful.”

She glanced between his eyes and his lips. “I can be very quiet.”

“Everything here is filthy.” Levi protested. “I don’t want to touch anything.”

Pieck kissed his neck. She started to unbutton her blouse. “Don’t then.” She lifted his hand, cupping it against her now half exposed breast. She leaned close, kissing his ear, her breath sending shivers down his spine. “Touch me.”

He kissed her, open mouthed, the fierce aggression in him finding a new outlet. Once he’d kissed her breathless, she turned around, lifting her skirts. He saw a flash of her strong thighs and backside underneath, as she bent over presenting herself and bracing against the crate. “Good God, Pieck. We’re being tailed, we could be caught any second by the constabulary or the people in this building. This place is foul with neglect.” He covered her nakedness by hugging her back and fumbled between them to unbuckle his pants, completely unraveled by her. “What we’re doing is dirty, degenerate, and irresponsible.”

She gave him one of her mysterious, mischievous smiles over her shoulder. “Do you want to stop?”

He buried herself in her, his hands gripping her thighs, nose against her nape, breathing her in, that strange desperate violence rising in him again. He wanted to shred her from the inside out. “Absolutely not.”

—Norden Valley, Alliance Town encampment—

“Come in.” Brandeis said at the guard’s hail. He looked in the mirror, pulling the skin of his jaw taut as he scraped his straight razor down the side of his face, in short strokes, shaving off the last spots of stubble. He washed the razor off in his basin and picked up his towel to wipe himself clean, then pulled his over shirt on, fixed the collar and turned around as he started to button it up—

To his surprise, Mikasa stood at the entrance to his tent. He’d been expecting August. “What’s up?” He asked her.

She seemed to struggle with something internally then exploded, rushing him. Before he could react, she slid her hands around his naked chest, her lips on his. He was so stunned his first reaction was to kiss back, his hand gripping her neck and jaw, his other hand at the small of her back. It wasn’t until he realized she was stripping off her shirt like she fully intended to take him right then, right there that sense returned.

“Wait, stop.” He caught her shoulders and pushed her down. He had to apply a shocking amount of force to do it. He stared her down. “What are you doing Captain Ackerman?”

She stared at him, her eyes slightly unfocused, face flushed.

He was almost undone by her looking at him like that. He had to steel himself with anger. “I’m not just your superior office, I’m your commanding officer. Step back.”

Her eyes widened as if she was ashamed and didn’t respond further except to look down. She didn’t move.

He straightened, quietly furious. “I am not going to physically force you. You are going to step back. That’s an order.”

A long, tense silence followed as Mikasa struggled internally, not looking at him or at anything at all. Finally after what felt like an eon, she stepped back and he could breathe again.

He swallowed and finished buttoning his shirt, then waved to the chair in front of his desk. “Sit.”

She obeyed, still not looking at him.

He sat heavily in his own chair behind his desk, feeling exhausted by the effort he’d just expended to gain control. “So the situation came to a head.”

Mikasa started, “Huh?”

“The entire camp could hear your argument with Historia. So Reiner is sleeping with both of you.” Brandeis snorted. “I guess I was too quick to assume he’d changed his ways.” 

“It wasn’t his fault.”

“Having sex with you was accidental on his part? I would love to hear the story of how.”

“It wasn’t his choice.” She slumped in her chair, her hands clenched together in her lap. “It was mine.”

“He agreed to it, though.”

She didn’t answer.

Brandeis eyed her. It was often hard for him to read Mikasa, but now watching her closely he could see the powerful, painful emotions she was struggling with.

“Why did he agree to it?”

“He told me not to say.”

“How mysterious.” Brandeis leaned back in his chair. “How did all of that lead to your lapse in judgement just now? I mean, certainly that’s what the situation needs. Another warm body piled on top of the mess.” He hesitated, his brow drew. “That was sarcasm, in case you didn’t pick it up.”

She said nothing, just curled in on herself and wept silently.

Brandeis watched her and felt like a heel. He sighed. “You’re putting me in a bad spot. I can’t do anything but say no, no matter what I feel. Do you understand?”

“I’m sorry.” She said, wiping her tears. She stared desolately at the ground.

He frowned, uncomfortably reminded of the disordered behaviour of someone at the absolute limit of their emotional endurance. He was torn between offering her some kind of comfort and worrying that might be leading her on. Eventually he stood, walking around his desk to kneel in front of her. With her bowed, they were at eye level. He placed his hand on her shoulder. “Mikasa. Are you alright?”

She didn’t say anything or do anything for a long time, until she finally shook her head. He gathered her up in a hug, letting her settle her head against his shoulder. “I get it. Nobody listens to you because you’re so quiet.”

She grabbed his chest and cried silently into his neck. He was reminded of the first night with Reiner; they shared the same sort of densely quiet quality, although Mikasa was far worse in a lot of ways. After she seemed to have wept her fill, he patted her hair and pushed her away. “This is looking like a secret that’s going to do more damage if it’s kept rather than spilled. If Reiner told you not to say anything, then I’ll take the blame. He can tear my head off.” He stood. “If you can’t spit it out,” Brandeis placed a piece of paper and a pencil down in front of her on his desk, “Then write it down.” He pulled his great coat on. “You stay here and work on that. I have to attend to something. When I get back you better still be here working on it, or I’ll put you on fatigue duty all day tomorrow.” He chucked her on the chin and she looked up at him with her brown eyes huge. “It’ll be okay.”

He smiled and stalked out of the tent. Once outside he chose a random direction to walk, trying to control what he’d been ignoring ever since she’d kissed him. After a moment he realized he was being followed and stopped. He turned. “What do you want August?”

“I was coming to talk to you. We’ve spotted some patrols getting closer to the river.”

“Go brief Emil.” Brandeis turned back around, and kept walking. August continued to follow. He stopped and blew out a breath. “Out with it. I can feel the pressure of your commentary.”

“I was just thinking that Parval really has your number. He orders you to do something you think is pointless and you will dig in your heels and dare him to make you and then you two do your back and forth negotiating exactly how much field punishment and fatigue duty you’ll endure before you’ll comply and sometimes you just won’t no matter how much he punishes you; but if he frames the exact same thing in terms of you assuming responsibility over something or someone, you’ll do it twenty times over.”

Brandeis shook his head. “Two women fighting over a man. I’m out of my depth.”

“I don’t see how you could have handled it better.”

“I’m starting to feel for Parval. Were we really this bad?”

“ _You_ were worse.”

“How the hell did he not just kill us?”

“Ah, he vents his frustrations on the enemy.” August chuckled patting his shoulder. “But I imagine this is difficult for you in a different way. You like her.”

Brandeis shook his head. “No I don’t—“

“Because she’s too young for you. Yeah I’ve watched your guilt chase your attraction for months now.”

“It’s a moot point. I’m her commanding officer and she’s… entangled to say the least.”

“I knew she liked you.”

Brandeis looked at him, incredulous. “How did you possibly know that? She’s unreadable.”

“Huh. Interesting to hear you say that. Never knew you not to be able to read someone. I suspected because she’s always around you. You would go somewhere. And then she would pop up. Maybe she didn’t even know it herself. Although the way she looked at you when you’re not watching would suggest otherwise.” 

Brandeis grimaced. “I don’t need to hear that right now.” He stalked off abruptly.

“Where are you going?”

“Thought I’d take a dip in the river.”

“Damn, that’s going to be cold.”

He stopped and turned to look at August. “Exactly.”

August grinned at him. “Okay I feel less bad for interrupting then. I thought you were going to jack off.”

“Now that you mention it.” Brandeis threw his arms wide. “Maybe I will.”

—

Historia stopped outside the cabin the Engineers had built for Ketler. She glanced over at the guards, one of them was already reaching to open the door. “Call for us if anything happens.” He said.

She nodded and stepped inside after he’d opened it. The cabin smelled of new sawdust and smoke. She paused inside, silently observing Ketler, who either hadn’t noticed she arrived or was finishing up whatever he was doing before he turned around.

He was writing a letter on his desk; his handwriting neat and even. Everything about him was very ordered. From his short, military hair style, to his clean, well-kept Garrison uniform. His face was balanced, symmetrical, pleasing. Not striking like Brandeis or imposing like Parval or starkly beautiful like Reiner or smoulderingly pretty like Eren. Just handsome and tidy. He was average height, like Connie, with a strong build and an air of tremendous vitality, although he was older than all of them, in his late thirties, like Levi. But also like Levi he had an air of agelessness about him.

“We’ve set up a line of communication between our camps.” Kettler turned and stood, bowing. “It’s a good first start, your majesty. Sorry to keep you waiting, I didn’t realize you were going to grace me with your presence.”

“Formalities make me uncomfortable.” Historia said. She pulled out a chair from the wall by his desk. “Please sit.” She waved him back down. He had light brown eyes, she noticed, and sandy hair. “What is it you hope to achieve here?”

“Right to the chase.” He smiled. “We’re not at war yet, your Majesty.”

“Historia, please.”

“Historia. The Envoy has threatened it, you’ve declared it but the steward has not yet ratified your declaration. This affair can be over whenever you wish it to be. At least with Mitras and myself. I’ve been told you were… the most passionate about pursuing a military option.”

“I was?” Historia’s eyes narrowed. “The threat came first from Mitras. I just didn’t tolerate it. If we bend knee every time you threaten us, then we are hardly sovereign, are we?”

“I’d like to apologize.” Kettler grimaced, uncomfortable. “The Mitras envoy’s behaviour was unseemly. Mitras… doesn’t seem to grasp that it doesn’t rule anything but what’s within its own walls.” 

“If you’re going to pin this all on the Envoy, then I accept your apology.” Historia sat back, folding her arms over her chest. “Now pack up your armies and march back home.”

“It’s not that easy—“

“Right. So what’s the point apologizing for the Envoy’s rudeness. The issue isn’t his shitty attitude, that’s irrelevant, it’s the threat of war that you’ve brought to the people I care about.”

Kettler sighed. “Mitras—“

“Mitras, Mitras, Mitras.” Historia snapped. “If you just follow their lead in your alliance, Kettler, why am I wasting my time talking to you?”

He chuckled quietly, watching her. He looked fascinated. “I’ll tell you why you should talkto me. You have seen the atrocities Stein capable of. He’s currently choosing his target as we speak. If he decides to go after you now, you’re in for a long and painful struggle. If he decides to go after us we are done for. Stein’s army is all young men; mine, Garrison troops. We’ve fought off other factions for years now they are tempered, but they are also getting old.And Mitras just has to hide behind its walls to ward off invasion so no one has tried and their troops will break at the first sign of death.” He leaned closer. “But you and I, we can take down Stein together. Right here. Anvil and hammer.”

“If I marry you.” Historia said. “And if I give up my husband to you.”

Kettler turned back to his book, his fascination turning to frustration. “The people of the Walls love you; you’ve saved them twice. Few know you’ve married a Marleyan commoner—”

“War Chief.” She corrected.

“That’s better is it? That rank was earned attacking our people.”

Historia thought of mentioning the the mid-east war but figured bringing in continental politics would be a digression that would take hours to conclude. “Not quite.”

He shook his head. “The point is that if it was widely known it will be seen as a betrayal. You risk permanent exile for the town you are protecting. Not to mention your own disgrace.” He stared at her. “Why?”

“To unite our town.”

“And divide it from the Island?” He protested. “It’s admirable you have such compassion… no. That’s not what I want to say.” He seemed to pause to select his words carefully. “Do you feel like you have to atone for your actions? Is that why you act out of your own interests to protect these people? Not just that, but to go so far as to merge with one?”

Historia stood. “I didn’t come here to entertain intimate questions—“

He caught her hand, standing. “Do you regret the Rumbling?”

She tried to pull her hand away and he held tighter, pulling her closer. “Isn’t it the same as what you’re doing here? You know that giving Braun up and marrying me could save thousands of lives and provide needed stability to the island and yet you choose to protect what you are loyal to even though doing so kills more.” He caught her throat, leaning close to her ear. “There is no point regretting a choice you keep making.”

She grabbed his hand, twisting it away and stepped back, breaking his hold, fury rising. “Are you angry I’m not doing what I’m told?”

He laughed outright at that and then shook his head at her. “Please don’t talk like a child. It doesn’t suit you.” He stepped forward again and she stepped back until her heel hit the wall of the cabin.

“Stop.” She said, pushing at his chest as he leaned over her, his arms propped up against the wall.

He ducked close to her ear. “Yell for your guard if I scare you. I want you to be honest with yourself. You pretend to be so good, so righteous. But the truth is that there are those you care about and those you do not. And you are willing to ruthlessly sacrifice those you do not.” He chuckled, brushing his fingers against her cheek. She shivered. “You are willing to kill how many men to keep one man at your side? Oh to be that man.”

She closed her eyes, trembling.

“Call for your guards. But if you do, it’s because I’m telling you the truth and you can’t face it.” His fingers caught her chin, digging in. “Doesn’t Mitras gall you? How many times are you going to absorb their problems so they can keep spending the taxes they collect on themselves alone? How about that Steward? So self-righteous because he doesn’t have to get his hands dirty he just manipulates his web of lies and gets everyone else to do it for him. He’s such a coward he’s marinating in his own piss yet everyone dances to his tune. Stein is Death’s shadow on the battlefield but I have seen him. He’s a broken man; he can’t rule, he’s going to be destroyed by the first kind word he hears. None of them are fit to rule. But you are.”

Historia tried to pull out of his grip; he wouldn’t let her.

“Why aren’t you calling for your guard if you want me to stop?” He teased.

She didn’t answer, just glared at him, breathing hard. She could end this with a word. She _should._

He leaned close again and she was completely trapped by him. She put her hands flat on his chest, her fingers trembling with indecision.

“I’m in awe of the force you can wield. You are a Goddess of destruction. Don’t you dare regret what you did. You saved us all from a world filled with reckless hate. We would be dead now if it were not for you and your willingness to fight to the death for what is yours.” He said. “You and I could rule this whole Island together. I wouldn’t take your throne from you, I would be honoured to be your consort and simply have your ear. And you can keep your Marleyan too. God knows I have my own lovers I want to keep. You are wasted on that ranch, tending cattle. And I wonder if you’ve imposed exile on yourself because you’re afraid of your own potential. But why fear it when Paradis is begging for you to bring it to heel?”

He pulled back so she could focus on his face again, his gaze catching hers and not letting it go. She felt the same thrill she had at the implacable force Reiner had displayed the last day they were together. Kettler had the same intensity, the same impression of caged savagery, but there was more… his will to power was immense. Historia’s breath quickened. Like Eren’s.

Historia thought of the message Armin had sent. _Try harder._ She thought of what Hitch had said. _It looks serious._ Mikasa telling her she wouldn’t stop, even though she didn’t care. And finally just how much Reiner had suffered being with her, every moment looking like he was sick and in agony. She could stand the thought of it, _if_ he wanted her. But if it was just for duty then what was the point of forcing him to suffer further to maintain what amounted to nothing more than a political fiction? What was she keeping by staying married to him?

She closed her eyes against the conflict.

“There is no better way to protect those you care about, Historia, than power. Together we will put down Stein. And then we will go to Mitras, drag that Steward off his throne and kick him all the way to the ocean.”

He was so close she could smell the warmth of his skin. After having had a brief taste of being a sexual creature again, she’d found it left her achingly hungry. She had caught herself giving Mikasa and Brandeis long hot stares that she’d quickly tried to hide… and Kettler was not unattractive. 

“What was it like? Holding the entire world in your hand? Was it thrilling? Are you going to be a good girl for the rest of your life out of pointless penitence? Or seize what you need to make your enemies kneel?”

Her eyes snapped open. She shoved him, hard enough that he was forced to step back. “You think I’m your Goddess, then get on your knees.” She demanded. With a smile, he obeyed, opening his arm. She stepped up to him, grabbing behind his neck and lifting his chin. She bowed and kissed him until he kissed back and then she straightened, looking down at him, his head in her hands. “Show me how you make love to your Goddess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Isayama has said that the AUs reflect aspects of the character’s personalities in a different setting. If that’s the case then judging from the High School AU Historia has a lot of darkness, nihilism and will to power in her. She’s really judgemental of everyone around her but aside from her own manipulations to stir shit up the “popular” people don’t seem that bad. In fact, I think the real barrier between Historia and Reiner in that AU is that he’s so innocuous and bland he bores the crap out of her.
> 
> Reiner: I have to seduce the Pirate queen to keep her from going after my allies!  
> Hitch: I have to do everything I can to keep Jean and my friends safe!  
> Historia: I have a hunger that only a human heart can satisfy.
> 
> Also;
> 
> Villain: [insert villainous motive rant]  
> Reiner *puts gun to his own head*: But would you be willing to kill me to do it?!  
> Villain: Well, when you put it that way… I guess not.  
> And that’s how you weaponize plot armour.
> 
> Finally—
> 
> Nobody:  
> Absolutely nobody:  
> Husband: You know Eren’s titan is terrifying but also sloppy. It’s like he scribbled something with a crayon and put a head on it. Did he look at Reiner’s and then say to himself “Look at that super model titan, I’m going to make the ugliest fucking bullshit possible just to show you I can, Reiner.” He’s such a rebel.  
> Me: I can’t breathe, please stop…  
> Husband: Rocker boy is leaving Jackson Pollocks all over the landscape with his incomprehensible post modern sculpture titan because he thinks he’s an artiste. Also you’re really fucking lazy Eren, you can’t fight yourself, you have to make other titans to fight for you?  
> Me: I’m in pain, stop…  
> Husband: Eren you’re so lazy you didn’t even put meat on your titan. Imagine that shit with meat on it. Just Imagine it manifesting those titans out of its asshole or something. It’d be disgusting, everyone would be screaming in terror and puking.  
> Me: I am dead.  
> Next day  
> Absolutely no one:  
> Husband: Eren and his dollar store yarn ball titan, you know the kind you spend half an hour untangling just so you can figure out where the ends are…  
> Me: Stop sir. I can’t die twice.
> 
> Updates will resume week of Feb 12th.


	16. Dereliction of Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brandeis and Mikasa spend quality time together; Historia shows Kettler how it's done; Armin makes a controversial decision.

—Norden Valley Encampment -Eleven days post declaration of War —

Brandeis watched Mikasa stir on his cot. She picked herself up, looking around in confusion.

“You fell asleep at my desk so I carried you there. I figured you’d prefer not to go back to the tent with Historia. I was out all night on patrol.” He tapped his temple. “I have the best night vision. You must have been very tired.”

“Did you sleep?” Mikasa asked, pulling the blanket up to her chest.

“No.” Brandeis said. “Don’t worry about it, I can manage no sleep for a couple days. Coffee?” Brandeis lifted the pot off his oil burner.

She nodded and he poured her a cup, handing it over. He watched her hold it as if warming her hands but make no move to sip it. She remained huddled under the blanket. There was a subtle trembling in her fingers; he noticed she’d been shaking a lot and crying in her sleep.

He lifted the papers she’d been working on. “I read what you wrote.”

She glanced up at them, then down at her coffee. “I’m not done.”

“You can write more when you’re ready.” Brandeis leaned forward. “Are you having trouble with your stomach?”

She nodded.

“Do you need some milk? I have some biscuits.” He leaned over to his desk, opening a drawer and pulling out a tin. “Here, get something in you.” He handed the tin to her.

She took it and opened it, pulling out a chocolate covered cookie. She ate it slowly and listlessly. But he noticed after the first she took a second and a third, eating each with a bit more interest. Eventually she handed the tin back and he put it away. “Alright. First thing. You have battle fatigue. So you’re going to have to go back to casualty clearing and stay with the psychiatrist and nurses for a few days.”

Mikasa jerked up in the bed, shaking her head. “No. I have to stay with Historia.”

“She’ll be fine. She has an Infantry guard. Mikasa, if you don’t get treated what you’re experiencing will become permanent. I know you all on the island are really good at fighting Titans, but trust me. We’re really good at standing up to continual war. That includes keeping soldiers fit to fight.”

“I can’t.” The trembling stopped. All her movements seemed to stop dead but for her breathing which was shallow and fast. She stared at the grass on the tent floor like she was staring through it.

“Wait, wait.” He got up and moved to sit beside her on the cot. He slid his hand over her shoulder and she flinched away, looking frightened. Instead of letting her, he caught her other shoulder and pulled her into a hug. She struggled against him—and it was still difficult to contain her—but she felt weaker than he ever remembered her being.

He heard her gasp as she broke out of whatever fugue state had gripped her and her struggling stopped. “I’m sorry.” She sobbed.

“I won’t send you away. I’ll get the psychiatrist to come here. It’s quiet for now so it should be fine. You won’t be very useful for Historia like this. So you’ll have to stay here and rest.”

He felt her nod against his chest; he slid his hand against the back of her head, cradling her against his chest. “This isn’t something to be ashamed of, okay? I’ve seen it happen to lots of soldiers. It isn’t the solider, it’s the war.”

She nodded again. She gradually relaxed against him and he made himself comfortable by leaning up against the tent post beside the head of his cot. He was tired: it wasn’t the physical exertion of the night—which hadn’t been much all things considered—but the fact Mikasa was worrying him. He’d never seen her like this in the three years he’d known her.

“Are you ready to talk about the situation?”

She nodded.

He lifted the pages she’d written. “So you’ve been fighting a war for three years… with your ghost-almost-boyfriend in some kind of other dimensional hell-scape. Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Just let me process this. I remember the Paths shit three years ago, so I guess this isn’t that farfetched.” He flipped one of the pages over. “And the way you access this other dimension is by having sex with Reiner. That is weird. Do you guys know why?”

Mikasa sat up away from him. She looked uncomfortable. “I don’t know for sure. At the moment of…” She waved her hand. “You lose your sense of self… so you can pass through the veil into death.”

“Wow, that’s very gothic. And disturbing.” He flipped the page back over. “Does it work with anyone?”

“No. Just him. I can’t tell you why.”

“There’s some political implications to this that you say you also can’t explain to me. But that’s the gist. Ghost-boyfriend is the kid that stomped the world, right?”

Mikasa tensed.

“No. Don’t get excited. You didn’t tell me. I inferred.” He put the papers down on his cot and picked up one. “You wrote a lot. It’s going to take me awhile to place it all. You know, the description of the world, stuff like that. And while it’s all fascinating, I think the geographic colour is less important overall than what’s happening with you. You wrote, ’I can’t be touched.’ What does that mean?”

She pulled her knees to her chest and hugged them. He knew by now that this was how she soothed herself. He shifted the papers to one hand and laid his hand on her back, slowly rubbing up and down between her shoulder blades. She closed her eyes and let the motion rock her. “At the beginning Reiner would touch me and…” She blushed and hid her eyes behind her hand. “I liked it. It felt good. I felt bad that it felt good.”

“Because you felt like you were betraying ghost-boyfriend?”

She nodded, her eyes still hidden behind her hand.

“Do you… get to talk to ghost-boyfriend? Have ghost sex? Anything?”

She shook her head. “No. I just know I’m taking some of the burden off so he can continue and not go insane.”

“So the only one you were really connecting to is Reiner.”

Mikasa visibly struggled with that thought. “One time I thought… I thought it would be okay if the rest of this just stopped and it was just me and Reiner.”

Brandeis grimaced. “People do tend to get attached to each other under these circumstances.”

“I should never have thought that.” She pressed her fists against her eyes, grimacing. “Things changed as soon as I thought that. Him touching me started to trigger my instincts and I got him to stop doing it.”

“The Ackerman instincts.”

She nodded. “He didn’t say anything after that, but I could tell it was upsetting him more and more.”

“I always thought there was something happening between the two of you, but I could never figure out what because you were so miserable together. I guess I got my explanation. You’ve been torturing yourselves for three years to try to save the world.Both of you are so stubborn and you carry everything in silence. You’re worse than him on that score, frankly. And you never consider you might be asking too much of yourselves.” He dropped the pages down on his bed. “You and Armin had a pretty strained goodbye. He knows about this?”

Mikasa nodded.

“And he’s upset with you.”

“He says I’m obsessed and I don’t care who I hurt.“

“Don’t freak out when I tell you this. Reiner’s already pretty compromised. The first day I met him, it was obvious that he’d been forced, you know, sexually. Things happen in Marley. The system was so stupid and corrupt. That’s why you fight every inch. But the Liberio boys were done in by the bullshit. Shit happens to them and think they deserve it.” Brandeis shook his head. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Armin picked up on that too.”

Mikasa hid her head in her hands, sobbing.

“Hey. That’s not your fault. Armin’s… sorta touchy in general right now. I wouldn’t take it personal. And don’t worry about Reiner. He’s with Jean. Jean is very level headed. He’s probably got more common sense than all of you combined. Except maybe for Hitch. And the two of them care about each other a lot. He’ll be fine. You should worry about you.” He caught her shoulders levelling a stare at her. “Mikasa. If I were ghost boyfriend… I wouldn’t want this for you. If he’s aware but he can’t talk to you, this is probably torturing him too. All the two of you get for the rest of eternity is fighting hell together? I mean it’s very romantic. Until you have to live it. And you’re still here, on this side, destroying yourself.” He rubbed her back until she got her sobs under control. Then he picked up the papers and stood. “I’m not going to write up your behaviour yesterday. As far as I’m concerned it didn’t happen. If it makes you feel better to stay here with me, you can.”

She stared after him, looking like she didn’t want him to leave.

“I’ll get another cot set up and call casualty clearing to send up a psychiatrist.”

She got to her feet and stepped over to him, putting her arms around his chest.

Brandeis sighed, then slipped his arms around her. “Mikasa, how do I fit into all this? I have nothing to do with ghost-boyfriend.”

She leaned her head against his chest. “It stopped. When Reiner was with Historia. I don’t know if I’ll be able to do it again.”

“And then all this chaos started.” Brandeis waved towards the no man’s land outside his tent. “I’ll be. I guess you really were preventing war.”

“I want to protect my friends.” She choked, hiding her head in his chest. “But I was relieved when it stopped. I’m horrible.”

“No. You’ve just asked too much from yourself.” He looked down at her. He lifted her chin and kissed her lightly on the lips. “I hate it when war takes this away from people. You promise me you’ll find some other way, okay? Don’t sacrifice that part of yourself any more.”

She nodded and stepped back, wiping her eyes and turning back towards the cot. He caught her hand. “Wait.” He hesitated. “Have you tried just… going with it?”

She looked back, confused.

“You said your instincts trigger when you’re touched, you know… Have you tried just letting it happen and seeing if it’ll subside after awhile.” He shrugged. “If you choose someone sturdy enough, maybe it’ll work.” He squeezed her hand. "Why come to me, Mikasa?" 

She squeezed back, not looking at him. "Because you have nothing to do with him at all." 

—Salta Plateau - One Day Post Rumbling —

“Do you want to toast with me?” Brandeis asked the girl who had silently crept up behind him as he stood on the edge of the Salta Plateau, looking out at the silenced line of Colossal titans. He turned around. She was dark haired, dark eyed, her features fine with a haunting look; A strikingly beautiful girl. Her eyes were wide with surprise. Apparently she hadn’t thought he would be able to hear her. He grinned. “It’s a good day. We’re alive and Marley is dead.”

“Why are you crying?” She asked.

“Because my hometown Cantata is also dead.” He waved at the wasteland. “Look at that. An entire continent that’s dead. Some of them can’t even look at it.” He waved back towards the Salta base. “There’s a whole bunch on the other side, just huddled in fear. We’re going to have to figure out how to get to Paradis because I don’t think this land will be fit to live on. That’s going to be hard.” He glanced at her. “You’re Mikasa, right? That’s a Hizuru name.”

She nodded. “How do you know Reiner?”

“We served in the Infantry together for two years. He was in my platoon. I was his commanding officer. I showed him the ropes. When he came to me, he was the biggest failure in Marley.” Brandeis nodded at the line of slack colossus. “Now look at him. Saving the world with his friends. Those things are scary as Hell even just standing there still. Scary and also sort of hilarious. What you all did together was amazing.” He looked at her strangely. “Why aren’t you with your friends?”

“Oh.” Mikasa sat down and pulled her knees to her chest. “Connie passed out. Jean and Reiner are drunk and… they’re busy with each other.”

Brandeis raised his eyebrows. “They do seem quite close.”

“I got tired of babysitting them. Levi and Pieck have disappeared together. Armin and Annie… uh…”

“The blond couple?” Brandeis laughed. “They’re getting right on the repopulation, aren’t they?”

Mikasa blushed. “Armin is my closest friend.” She leaned her chin on her knees.

“I gotcha. He’s really focused on that blond girl. That’s just the way it is with new relationships. I’m sure he’ll remember you soon.” Brandeis took a swig from his bottle of rum. “Want some?”

She grabbed the bottle and took a skeptical sip. She grimaced and handed it back.

“Yeah, it’s disgusting. Too sweet. But.” He grabbed it and pointed with it at some indistinct point on the desolate horizon. “But, it’s booze.”

She seemed to reconsider her earlier decision and waved for it again. Brandeis handed it to her and she took a good few swallows, wiping her lips and handing it back. They sat in silence for a long while, watching dim and scattered stars rise over the desert. The night sky was a smouldering volcanic purple from the fires burning endlessly in the Rumbling’s wake. Then the moon rose and flecked the sky with silver, granting the ominous smoky dark a hint of wistful charm.

Brandeis took another swig. “Is there something you felt like telling a stranger?” He asked, although she felt familiar for no reason he could discern.

“Eren was my… friend.” She said. “Nobody wants to talk about it yet. He’s a huge silence between all of us. Armin wants to be with Annie. Right now I’m just another reminder of Eren. Annie isn’t.” Mikasa pressed her chin against her knees. “I think Reiner and Jean need to be together more than anything because they both know what it’s like to kill a friend that they loved.”

“I saw how that affected Reiner when he was with my platoon.” Brandeis said. “It’s something else, for sure.”

“Pieck and Levi, they’re the oldest. They’ve lived through the most war. They’ve both lost entire squads. All at once. I’ve never had that many people close to me so I don’t even know what that must feel like.”

They lapsed into silence again. Brandeis thought over what she’d said; the sky was clearing a little in the cool night air, the stars becoming brighter and the purple less angry.

“And that leaves you. You’re the one who’s lost a lover…?” Brandeis trailed off, giving her space to confirm his suspicion.

“We never…” Mikasa pressed her forehead into her knees. Brandeis could hear the agony in her voice. “Because I was too stupid to say the right thing. I’m always too stupid to say the right thing.”

Brandeis swirled the rum in his bottle. He grunted ruefully. “I know that feeling.”

Mikasa looked at him. “Hmm?”

“Five years ago I was married. Her name was Hilde. She was very beautiful; delicate and kind, but angry too. She had a temper and she was impulsive.” Brandeis smiled and swallowed another mouthful of too sweet rum.

“What happened to her?”

“She was full Marleyan. I’m sixty-fourth Eldian. At the time we got married it was legal for us to marry in South Marley.”

“Sixty-fourth?” Mikasa looked at him strangely. “That’s almost nothing.”

“Yep. The system was so incomprehensibly stupid. Anyway. We were about to have our first kid and the Party decides to make our marriage illegal. We couldn’t live together anymore. A month later she tried to commit suicide.”

Mikasa sniffled. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s been awhile. I remember telling her on the phone that she could just… drop the kid off with me to raise when it was born and find someone else if she needed a clean break. Just move on. Just don’t kill yourself over it. Not over me.”

Mikasa stared at him, her eyes wide and innocent but sad.

He stared at her a bit too long and then looked away, realizing he was probably pretty drunk. “She made sure the second time she finished the job.” Brandeis sighed, it still hurt almost unbearably. “To this day I don’t know why I said something so stupid. I should have said that we’d figure something out; we’d be together. Somehow. That’s what I should have said.” Brandeis wiped his eyes. He’d been crying since before she arrived. She hadn’t made him feel self conscious about it which surprised him.

“I haven’t been able to cry.” Mikasa laid the side of her head against her knees. “Maybe there’s something wrong with me.”

“I couldn’t cry about Hilde and our kid for two years. I can probably cry about Cantata because everything I loved in it is long gone.” He reached out to hug her shoulders. She leaned into it, closing her eyes. “People think that mourning is an emotion. It’s actually a state of being. When you’re in it, you do everything in it. You laugh, you smile, you eat, you sleep. It’s when the mourning starts to let you go that you can finally cry.”

—Alliance Town: Six months Post Rumbling —

Brandeis watched Mikasa as she clambered up the side of a large oak tree, preparing to put on a demonstration of her military acrobatics for his benefit. They were on a hill overtop the future site of Alliance town on Paradis Island. The town was just abandoned buildings and tents. Marleyan Army engineers crawled through the rubble of the old townsite; they’d started to survey new areas to lay down roads. They’d start with the roads, of course. Roads, drainage ditches, pipe. Looked like they had spools for telephone and electricity wire too. That the Marleyan Military had prepared for the end times didn’t surprise Brandeis, what surprised him was that Canties like him had ended up being part of their plans. Something had shifted in the Rumbling and the months following it; now the Marleyan soldiers seemed to regard him as one of their own. Mostly self interest to be sure; They were army engineers, he and his fellow Canties were experienced Infantry and they were in hostile territory.

He glanced back at Mikasa. She was perched on the largest and most sturdy branch, observing how it moved as she rocked it up and down. Satisfied, she began, moving through a smooth sequence of cartwheels and summersaults, seeming to float in the air. He laid against the angled tree trunk, his chin pillowed on his forearms, watching her. Her movements were so fluid, powerful and free, it was arousing to watch her. After the first few minutes he was grateful he was leaned up against the trunk and not just gaping at her out in the open.

He took a puff on his cigarette, and almost choked on the smoke when she did a back flip and landed nimbly on the branch. Her balance and footing was so sure it was almost unreal.

“That’s beautiful.” Brandeis called to her. “I’ve never seen such a beautiful form of combat.”

Mikasa walked along the tree branch towards him. “What about you?”

“Oh no.” He shook his head. “I’m infantry. I maintain forward momentum, keep my feet and butcher anyone in front of me. What I do is a sin against God. It’s ugly. And I’m not inclined to give demonstrations.”

She wiped her face with her sweat shirt sleeve and said nothing more. Her silence felt faintly reproachful.

Brandeis shook his head. “Alright. I won’t show you that. But I do have something else.” He ground the cigarette under his boot and took off his great coat, hanging it on a broken branch. He rolled up his sleeves, then knelt to unlace his boots, stepping out of them. He stripped off his socks and balled them up, shoving them in one of the boots. Two quick steps and he jumped, catching the branch she was on. It swayed under his weight and she giggled and scurried towards the trunk to make space. He hauled himself up then stood on the branch, wobbling a bit on his feet.

She gasped and held out her hand.

He waved her off. “My balance isn’t as good as yours. But,” He reached up and caught two branches above them, one in either hand, about shoulder width apart, thick enough to support his weight. He lifted his feet from the bigger branch and pulled himself up. He walked forward on his hands, the branches separated until there was almost his full arm span of distance between them. At that point his weight was making them dip alarmingly.

“Careful!” She shouted.

He looked down and saw she’d come out on the branch to reach for him. He looked at her with a skeptical smile. “You think you can catch me? Watch.” He took several breaths and rocked himself up until he was suspended like a cross, his body horizontal to the ground, supported by his arms, shoulders and back alone. He held the position to a count of ten, and then let go and dropped onto the lower branch, forcing her to step back. He grinned back at her, shaking the strain out of his body. “Victoria cross.”

She skittered back to the trunk and sat down quickly. She pulled her knees to her chest and lifted her her sweatshirt collar over the lower half of her face as she stared at him with an implacable sort of intensity.

“I’m not as agile as you, but I’ve always been able to do stuff like that just naturally.” He turned around on the branch and walked towards her.

She blinked up at him, her cheeks flushed. She made an interesting little whimpering sound as he stood in front of her on the branch. He laughed, “Are you okay? I’m not going to fall off.”

She nodded and lifted the collar of her sweatshirt up even further over her nose staring down at the branch with force.

“The Victoria cross I couldn’t do before Infantry training though.” He pulled his notebook out of the back pocket of his pants. “Since you showed me something beautiful.” He scooted over to sit beside her at the thick base of the branch and arranged himself in a comfortable position that didn’t feel like he was going to fall off. He flipped through his book. “Here we go. A poem I think you’d like.” He smiled at her. “‘She dreams of golden gardens and sweet glooms/Not marvelling why her roses never fall/Nor what red mouths were torn to make their blooms.’”

Mikasa sat forward, letting her sweatshirt fall from her face.

“‘The shades keep down what well might roam her hall/Quiet their blood lies in her cimsom rooms/And she is not afraid of their footfall/They move not from her tapestries, their pall/Nor pace her terraces, their hecatombs/Least aught she be disturbed or grieved at all.’”

She had her eyes closed now, maybe imagining what he was saying.

He closed his book. “That one’s seditious. Or it was before Marley died. It’s a condemnation of Marley’s militarism.”

She looked at him questioningly.

“Yeah, I’m a soldier. But… I don’t like war. You just do it because otherwise someone else has too. Right?”

“Hm.” She hummed thoughtfully and then pillowed her head on his shoulder. “Yeah.”

—Alliance Town: One year Post Rumbling —

“‘Less deathly than the air that shakes black with snow.’ Shakes or shudders?” Brandeis asked.

“Shudders.” Mikasa said. “It’s more intimate.”

“Shudders. Yeah, you’re right, that sounds better.” He wrote the correction down in his notebook.

They sat at the base of the tree on the hill overlooking Alliance Town. Now the roads were paved, new houses and shops were built and the Great house had been repaired. Activity had started to ebb and flow through the town streets, the beginnings of a small economy and family life, although everything was still very centred on the rhythm of military life. Brandeis didn’t know when that would end, but it filled him with pride to realize that the military could function as a scaffold for building something peaceful.

Brandeis turned to Mikasa, putting his notebook away. “Your friends are all finding things to do.” He opened his palm towards Jean who was setting up a brass theodolite to survey the land just beyond the base of the hill. Connie was carrying a note pad, ready to jot down Jean’s data. “You should find something too.”

Mikasa looked from Jean to him. “I’m going to stay in the Infantry.”

“Hm.” Brandeis shook his head. “Are you sure you don’t want to do something safer? Eventually we’ll be at war again.”

“The Military is what I know.” Mikasa said. “I… I have instincts that are useful. And sometimes I feel like they need to go somewhere or…”

“Yeah, I got you.”

Mikasa rubbed her arms. “There are things my friends can do that I don’t know if I can.” 

“Jean likes you.” Brandeis said. “You might want to seal the deal before Hitch gets him.”

Mikasa closed her eyes, leaning her forehead into her knees. “He told me.”

“And…?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I’d just be slowing him down. I’m not free to give him what he deserves.” She glanced up at Brandeis. “I need to be around soldiers. He needs to be away from them. Become something else.” She picked at the bark on the tree. “What about you? Are you ever going to leave the Infantry?”

“When I just made Captain two years ago?” Brandeis chuckled. “I’m probably career Infantry at this point. When I was a kidthe last thing I thought I’d be is a soldier. Taking orders? I think the kid I was would punch me now. I wanted to be a mobster. Get a fast car, a Tommy gun, really nice suits. Keep company with beautiful, mean women. Run booze. That kind of thing.” Brandeis grinned at her. “I even ran with a gang for a couple weeks until Pop hided me and put an end to it. You know what a mobster is right?”

Mikasa shook her head.

“Organized crime. Like your uncle. Or father. Whatever he is.“

“Levi?” Mikasa laughed. “No not father. Cousin or great uncle I guess. He’s not a criminal.”

“Huh. Really? Are you sure?”

“He was a long time ago, before he became a Scout.”

“Well there you go.” Brandeis hugged her shoulders. “I know what you mean about needing to be a soldier. It’s what makes sense.” He nodded towards Jean. “Some people love by building. Some people love by leading, like your friend Armin. And some people love by fighting.”

\--

Brandeis had walked with Mikasa to a small hunter’s shack on the other side of the river. He’d found it on patrol and they’d been using it as a forward base. They arrived just before dawn. No one was scheduled to be on patrol in that area.

The shack was a one room log cabin with a mossy roof. It’d been fixed up by the Engineers and supplied with food and medicine and a cord of wood. Out front was a small grass clearing ringed with old trees, someone had nailed an iron hook to hang game for field dressing on one of the trees. A few of the Infantry patrols had found fallow deer and decided to add them to their food supplies so the clearing had a strong stink of blood and offal.

“It’s not very romantic.” He said, wrinkling his nose.

She looked at him, then took his hand. “Yes it is. It’s appropriate. Life and death.”

“You’re very odd.”

She took his other hand and looked up at him. She looked shy. “So are you.”

Brandeis chuckled. “I didn’t say I wasn’t.”

She leaned forward on her toes to kiss him. He kissed her back and after a moment’s hesitation, caught her behind the head and deepened the kiss. He now had no excuse. He started to kiss the side of her face down to her neck and she tensed.

“You’re fighting it. Just let go.” He whispered against her ear. “I’m not sure how it works but I’m stronger than you.”

She nodded and he could feel her tears against his cheek.

When she finally did as he said, she fought like a hellcat and he could see from her eyes she was horrified by her aggression towards him; He tried to contain her as best he could but soon his whole body was aching from the blows, blood flowing from where she’d gouged him with her nails. It was exhausting, the pain made worse by him trying to stay as passive as he could to avoid triggering his own instincts.

Then she did something that was too close to deadly and he couldn’t stop, he struck like a mongoose and she turned his strike, her reflexes every bit as sharp.

The moment his instinct met hers, something tore open inside him. He fisted his fingers in the hair at the back of her head, wrenching her head back, exposing her neck and biting. She yelped, then paddled at his shoulders. Later he realized that was the moment she’d somehow broken out of that terrifying reflexive violence and started responding normally. Of course that was also when he went off the deep end.

He picked her up and pressed her against the trunk of the nearest tree; she pushed him back to make space and he growled at her until he realized she was pulling off her shirt. He helped her yank off her trousers and she sat, balanced on the bend in the tree trunk, naked as a nymph, buffeted by the cold fall wind. She'd folded her hands over her chest, shivering; he leaned forward, sheltering her with his great coat and she wrapped her legs around his waist, kissing his neck, her fingers working his shirt and trousers open. He ran his thumb up the inside of her thigh, as she gathered him in. She whimpered as he pressed her against the tree, he leaned his forehead into the rough bark, breathing hard, that strange ferocity churning in him, making him shake fighting it. She ran her hand up his neck, pressing her lips to his ear. "Just let go."

Much later, after they'd retired to the cabin, he apologized for the mess he'd made of her back, “Sorry.” He was picking bits of bark and gravel out of the skin over her shoulder blades. She was bowed forward, her eyes closed; the fire reflected off her face and naked chest. He’d given her some laudanum for the pain but she still winced whenever he had to dig out a deeply embedded bit of debris. “I am really sorry.” 

“Stop saying that.” She shook her head. “It’s just road rash. I’ve had it tonnes of times hitting the dirt when I screwed up with my gear. If that cut is still bleeding when you’re done, you’ll need stitches.”

“I don’t think we can do this again. We need to maintain fitness for duty.”

“You’re taking me off duty.” She said sullenly.

He pulled the bucket of water he’d been warming away from the fire and ladled water over her back, wiping down the wound with a cloth to clean out the small bits of dirt and ground up bark. The water was pink with blood. “I’m not taking myself off. Not yet.” He continued to wash her clean until the water ran down clear. He towelled her dry and started to rub salve into the wound.

After a bit she turned and caught his hand, “Thank you.”

He looked down at the ground, nodding. She caught his cheek in her other hand, lifting his head and looking him in the eye. That startled him: it was unusual for her to be so direct. “You’re upset you hurt me? Even though I may have hurt you bad enough for you to need stitches?”

He sighed. “Mikasa…”

She leaned closer, tapping his lips with her finger, “Every time my back stings it reminds me of what we did and how desperately we did it.” She slid her cheek against his, her lips against his ear. “And it turns me on.”

Brandeis looked at her sidelong, blowing out a breath. “We are going to have to have sex again. You made that _unavoidable,_ now. You realize that, Captain Ackerman?”

She smiled and giggled then bit her lip, nodding rapidly. “Yes, Major!”

He kissed her and she eagerly kissed him back, so excited it made his heart hurt. “I’m going to have to resign my commission. Not one week in and I’m already screwing a subordinate. I can feel Parval’s contempt from here. Jovus take it.”

He had to be careful of her wounds and her of his so it was slow, sometimes agonizingly so, but the bliss and relief on her face was worth the exercise of patience. She glowed and laughed and watching her, Brandeis decided it was worth whatever it would cost to make this odd, quiet girl happy.

She slept a bit during the morning, curled up against his side, her head pillowed on his shoulder. Brandeis stayed awake, reading up about Stein’s past battles, going over the reports he’d read from the Army Engineers on the progress of their defensive line and the updates on the enemy troop positions. He listened to her stir in her sleep; it was more peaceful than it had been, but she still seemed restless and upset. Here and there she’d cry out for Eren and it made his heart clench to hear it.

Brandeis had never been one to entertain thoughts of suicide but sometimes he’d wished he’d just killed himself after his marriage to Hilde had been made illegal. If he had he was sure Hilde would have mourned him and moved on. It was the idea of him being somewhere she couldn’t go that had broken her.

He saw the same obsession in Mikasa and he was fairly certain she would eventually choose to slip away into hell with Eren.

—

If Historia had to describe Kettler it’d be 'a good sport.’ Or even, ‘good sport.’ He let her take the lead, which she appreciated since she disliked being lead when something was new to her. She preferred to explore on her own initiative.

The experience was nothing like dealing with Reiner's disordered passion. He threw himself into everything he did; All the pain and sickness was a fractured and chaotic expression of that fervour: broken glass scattering light.

It reminded Historia of an abused horse in some ways, trying to use its instincts to make sense of its mistreatment. That thought hadn't occurred to her prior to Kettler and it startled her. She felt the pinch of tears in her eyes. Instead of letting herself cry, she rolled her hips more aggressively overtop Kettler and heard him breathe harder in response, running his hands up her thighs and thrusting himself up to meet her. “You definitely take what you want.” He said, a chuckle in his voice.

She put her hand over his mouth. “Be quiet.”

He nodded behind her hand.

She leaned close to his ear. “Correct me if I do something wrong, but I don’t want to listen to romantic drivel or unnecessary commentary.”

He laughed. “Yes ma’am.”

He managed to keep his mouth shut for a few minutes more before he seemed compelled to speak again. “At the risk of incurring your wrath, you’re very dominating and I find it extremely arousing.”

Historia shook her head, chuckling. “Good for you.”

In the aftermath, Historia panted, her hands splayed on Kettler’s broad chest. She was dripping sweat; her muscles shaking from exertion. _There. You’re free from having to suffer, Reiner. You have no possible further obligation to me._ Again she felt the prick of tears behind her eyes. Instead of sucumbing she threw her leg over Kettler’s chest and jumped off, picking up her pants and pulling them on.

“Just going to leave?”

“Yes.” Historia said.

Kettler sat up. “You certainly can make someone feel used.”

Historia glanced at him. She reached past him on the bed to get her brassier and shirt. “Is that a joke?” She laughed. “I’m using you. You’re using me. That’s the way it works.”

She pulled her brassier around her chest and re hooked it. “It was fun though. Uncomplicated. That’s your appeal.”

“Look on my desk.” Kettler said. He wasn’t looking at her, she noticed. She smiled to herself, _why play a game you’re no good at?_ “There’s an envelope; it has information on my troop placements. I’m giving it to you as a gesture of good faith.”

She buttoned up her shirt and picked the envelope up. “I’ll confirm it.”

“Please do.”

“I’m not providing you anything equivalent.” She put the envelope back down on the desk and started to finger comb her hair and tie it back.

“I wasn’t expecting you to. If we’re going to work together, then you just need to establish your defences before Stein arrives. I don’t need to know the specifics.” Kettler pulled his shirt back on, then his pants. Dressed he finally seemed to get the nerve to look at her. “If you don’t, no deal. I’ll join him.”

Historia nodded. She grabbed Kettler’s chin, kissing him. “When I’m done, I’ll come back.”

He looked shocked. Then he caught her behind her head and kissed her back.

Historia smiled sadly against his lips. _I’m using you and you’re already in denial._

She broke off the kiss and picked up the envelope, opening the door.

Outside she nodded to the guards, who said nothing about her being in the cabin the entire night. She set off towards her own tent, only a few hundred yards away. Once she was inside she noticed that Mikasa’s cot was unused. Obviously she’d found other accommodations for the night. Historia wondered who it was as she cleaned her face, brushed her teeth and pinned her hair into a braid. Once she was cleaned up, she walked over to the command tent and found Brandeis already sitting at the strategy table, drinking coffee and looking through reports. “There’s a pot on the hotplate.” He said without looking up.

“Did you wrestle a bear last night?” Historia asked, raising an eyebrow. She had her answer.

“Something like that.” Brandeis folded the report closed and looked up at her, tilting his head thoughtfully. “Did you conclude your parlay with Kettler?”

“Yes. It was productive.” Historia looked at the map of North Paradis.

“And enjoyable?” He asked.

Historia looked up. “Was wrestling the bear?”

Brandeis chuckled. “It had its charm.”

“Well, in that case.” She nodded her head, looking back down at the map. “So did the parlay. We might be joining forces against Stein, but I need to confirm some intelligence Kettler gave me first. I’m going to call it in to Alliance town.” She walked over to the table holding the telephone.

“Historia. Wait.”

Brandeis caught her hand as she was about to lift the receiver from the cradle. She looked up at him.

“We should talk about the situation between you and Mikasa.”

Historia frowned. “I don’t want to talk about it any further. The subject is closed. That’s an order.” Historia stared at Brandeis. She could tell he wanted to continue. “I hope you weren’t being patronizing when you said you take my orders.”

He frowned, anger flashing over his features. “No.”

“Good.” She turned away from him, looking at the codes to transmit to alliance town and lifting the receiver again. After a moment she dropped it back in its cradle, relenting. “When I’m out on the range and all I’m doing is riding and herding, watching the horizon for wolves. It’s like my heart becomes the land and the sky and the cattle. I don’t have to be human.” Historia sighed and looked up at him. “I’m sure we’ll all sit down and we’ll figure it out and we’ll be the best of friends again soon. But right now I don’t want to feel anything human at all. Do you understand that?”

Brandeis’s look finally softened. “Yeah, I do.”

—Alliance Town: Great House, Arlert Residence —

“No! Get her away from me!”

Armin sat up in bed at the sound of Annie screaming. He turned towards her, gathering her in his arms and whispering into her ear, “Annie.”

She started awake, gasping. She struggled in his arms before she realized where she was and then she started to cry. “I… I’m going to hurt her.”

“Annie it’s just a nightmare.” Armin pressed his cheek against her hair. “Everything will be fine.”

She clung to him, trembling and he rocked her, singing softly.

His alarm clock went off, ringing and rattling on the side table. Armin breathed out hard and slammed his hand down on the reset with too much force, sending the thing clattering down to the ground. It wasn’t dawn yet. But he had to set it early so he could get a start on the day. The aerial team began their shift the moment the horizon started to lighten.

“I have to meet with Onyakopon and Connie about the latest reconnaissance information.” He said.

He felt her nod against him and pull out of his arms.

His entire body felt like lead as he stood and walked towards their dressing chair and the clothes he’d laid over it. He pulled his pants on, then his shirt, adjusting the collar, then buttoning it.

Annie lay on her side under the blanket, an unsettlingly small lump in the bed.

“Are you going to be okay here on your own?” He asked and he knew the answer. The honest answer was _no_. He knew that. He closed his eyes; he didn’t even know why he was asking her, except to let her lie to him.

“I’ll be fine.” She said.

“I’ll be back for lunch.” He kicked his feet into his shoes and opened the door to the bedroom. “Try to relax, okay?”

The blanket shifted as she nodded.

“Okay. Love you.”

“I love you too.” She lifted a hand from under the blanket, waving at him.

Armin closed the door behind him feeling like shit for leaving her.

The feeling stayed with him as he walked with his guards to his office. Onyakopon and Connie were already there, huddled around the map of the island with new photos spread around. Armin listened with half an ear as they debriefed him about troop massings, new movements, suspicious costal structures… After awhile Zeke wandered in listlessly, thankfully without Yelena. He perked up as soon as he saw the map and the photos, stepping in beside Onyakopon and asking intelligent, probing questions. Armin watched this, then just started to slide into thoughts about Annie. He knew she was afraid of something. Something she hadn’t really explained to him. As much as he wanted her to explain it; he got the sense what she really needed was his presence more than anything. It was getting increasingly difficult for him to rationalize to himself why he needed to be at work by five in the morning and not get home until after midnight. He had half an hour at lunch and fifteen minutes in the morning with her; if she did come to visit him, he couldn’t take time off work, she had to work alongside him and he had stopped that because it’d been making her nightmares worse.

“Armin!”

He blinked. Zeke was shouting at him for some reason. “Huh?”

“Armin. They’re asking you to confirm the change in flight plans requested by Historia.” Zeke said. “I would suggest you do so.” Zeke caught his shoulder. “Arlert. I’m not a morning person. As far as I’m concerned this hour shouldn’t exist in the human imagination at all. And I’m functioning better than you.”

“Lets take a break.” Onyakapon said. “Get some breakfast.”

Armin nodded and got up from behind his desk. Zeke, Connie and Onyakopon followed him as he walked out of his office and through the hallway to the Great House foyer. The Cafe girls were busy laying out buffet items for the morning meal. He stood like a zombie, leaning against the wall, waiting for them to be done when one took pity on him and made him a plate of food, ushering him to a table.

Zeke shook his head when the Cafe girl asked him if he’d like a plate as well. “I’m still in a walking coma; don’t want to push my luck with food. Just pour me a cup of coffee and I’ll go for a smoke.”

Another Cafe girl made Onyakopon and Connie a plate each and they sat down beside Armin. Zeke got his coffee and wandered off towards the conservatory, trailed by guards.

Onyakopon set into his meal with the efficiency of a soldier. Connie picked at his and Armin felt bad. His friend was obviously worried about him. “Hey, it’s okay Connie.”

“No it isn’t.” Connie said, eating a mouthful of omelet. “You’re getting worse.”

“Armin. You’re exhausted.” Onyakopon leaned on his elbows on the table. “You need help. I wish I could offer but with all of this added work I’m barely keeping up. Falco and Gabi are both smart kids but they’re too young and Falco’s workload is already far larger than it should be. Unfortunately Connie’s useless.”

“Hey!” Connie sat up, his mouth full of egg. “Well I mean I am, but… do you have to say it to my face?”

Onyakopon ignored Connie. “You were going to step back when Historia got here to help run things, right?”

Armin shook his head. “There’s no one to take my place, now.”

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but you have got to figure something out because this isn’t working. Making life doesn’t stop for politics.”

Armin chewed his sandwich, the Cafe girl had decided on giving him something light. It tasted like sawdust in his mouth. The nausea he’d felt during Annie’s first months was back, made worse by his constant churning anxiety. He swallowed and gulped down some water, throwing the rest of the sandwich down on the plate in disgust. He pressed his napkin against his lips, fighting to keep the food down. “I know it isn’t working, Onya.”

“You got to put life first.” Onyakapon picked at the remains of his omelette. “I’m putting a lot of pressure on you. I wish there was something I could do…” He frowned. “You put your trust in me way back when. Even though it didn’t look like I deserved it at the time, but it made me want to help you more than anything. You put your trust in Kemlo and Hofferson. I think it’s fair to say that both those gambles are paying off for us; I don’t know how much yet, but they both seem to be doing whatever they can to live up to the trust you placed in them. Trust is a powerful thing. Particularly when it’s granted to someone who knows they don’t deserve it. When I knew you before, you talked about what you needed to sacrifice in order to win; maybe what you need to think about is… who do you need to trust to make things work? Trust is a sacrifice too.” 

Armin stared at Onyakopon. “Someone who doesn’t deserve it.” He repeated thoughtfully. “Huh.”

—

“How is it possible you’ve gotten worse since last week, Arlert?” Zeke jumped several of his pieces and claimed the game.

Armin folded his hands over his chest. He made no move to set up his side of the checkerboard to restart the game. “There was something I wanted to talk to you about, Zeke.”

“Before you begin, I have concerns. I say this with all respect. Your performance is lacking and it’s starting to make me worried about the future of Alliance Town.” Zeke started setting up the checker pieces. “You’re constantly distracted. You’re overworked. You aren’t able to get time away so you can perform at your best. Even more, you are the type of person who needs a partner because your particular type of insight needs time and a sounding board to develop. You need someone able to give you that time. Reiner made… adequate decisions in the present which gave you time to set up your more considered plans in the long term.” Zeke slowly inhaled; the ash at the end of his cigarette lengthened as the fire ate through it. “And by adequate I mean… he makes a decision. The decisions themselves are fucking questionable at times. And as much as it pains me to say it, he’s smart enough to be your sounding board.”

Armin nodded, closing his eyes.

“Having said that I doubt Reiner’s doing better without you. Hopefully your friend… what’s his name?”

“Jean.”

“Hopefully Jean is providing some of the good sense he needs in your absence. And then there’s the issue of Annie. She’s not a normal woman. She’s a weapon of war. She has almost nothing to draw upon as a basis for motherhood. Most people seem to think that parenthood is instinctive but in my experience it’s almost entirely taught. And now her surrogate big sister and brother are gone. I can see that’s weighing on you and making it even more difficult for you to do your job.” Zeke freshened his tea. “From reviewing the Junta’s records, it seems Historia demonstrated a good mind for politics, before her self-imposed exile. I suppose you wanted to get her involved to help fill the gaps in Reiner’s abilities before you stepped back to help Annie. All that planning has gone to shit, leading us to our current non-optimal situation.” He sipped his tea. “Don’t take what I’m saying as an insult, Armin.”

Armin rubbed his eyes. “Actually I appreciate your honesty.”

“You’ve been recently slammed with just about everything you could be all at once. If anything the fact that this place still functions is a testament to your ability to find the right people to run things and inspire them to get on with it.” Zeke shifted Yelena’s chair so the plant would catch the light streaming in from the window. “So what did you want to talk about?”

“You seem to be very aware of my short comings.”

“If you mean I recognize you have human limitations, sure.”

“I need your help Zeke.” 

Zeke’s hands stopped in the middle of adjusting Yelena’s leaves. “My help? I’m already helping you.”

“Right now you’re giving me advice. I’m considering appointing you as a temporary replacement for Reiner.”

He shook his head. “You want me to be your flack shield so you have space to think and pull out those genius lateral moves? And be able to spend time with your wife so that what she’s doing doesn’t break her. That’d be placing a lot of trust in me, Arlert.”

“Do you think you deserve it?” Armin stared steadily at the board as he set up his pieces.

“I was right, you know. My solution would have worked. I’ll never back down on that. However being right in a world that no longer exists is not particularly relevant anymore is it? I recognize that you are right in the world that does exist.” His hands dropped. “You came to me when I was at my lowest point and while I won’t say you gave me hope, you did give me something to think about.” He snorted. “You must really be desperate.”

“Do you think you deserve my trust?” Armin repeated.

Zeke sighed, closing his eyes. He shook his head. “No.”

Armin folded his hands on the table, smiling softly. “Do you want it?”

Zeke nodded at the game board on the balcony. “Do I get to graduate to the adult table?”

—

Armin heard Annie emerge from their bedroom. He turned to smile at her. “Hi. Surprise. I’m at your disposal for the afternoon.”

She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes then stared at him in confusion. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

Armin shrugged. “I’m letting Zeke step up.”

“Armin.” Annie walked over. “Is that wise?”

“Probably not. But… I’ve made my choice. So no arguments.”

Annie put a kettle on the gas stove, turning it on. Armin was still a little astounded by the conveniences in Alliance Town; they’d taken over an abandoned settlement and undeveloped land, so the army engineers had been able to put in infrastructure based on military technology and using cached supplies. There were phones, electricity and central heating from natural gas. Capozzi had told him, ‘it’s amazing what you can get done when you don’t need permits and can just use common sense.’ All because Armin had decided to put his trust in Capozzi, even when a lot of people had told him not to. 

“You’re still getting misty-eyed at the stove huh?” Annie said.

“We did that.” Armin said. “A bunch of people that nobody wanted.”

“If I can’t argue, how about an explanation?”

He frowned. “He’s extremely dangerous, I know. But… the truth is he can do what he wants no matter how well we think we’re containing him. If we wanted to be safe from him we should have killed him. Trusting him might be the only way to have any control over him at all.”

Annie took the water off and busied herself pulling out mugs and spooning out tea into a pot. “Well you’re the one who knows him best now.”

“Annie.” He slipped his hand into her hair. “I hear you talking in your nightmares. I know you’re scared.”

She looked down at the mug in her hands, running her finger around the lip. 

“I also asked your father to help here. And Karina. They’re going to move into one of the apartments. At least until Reiner and Hitch are back. I know Karina can be… overbearing but I talked to Brock and he said he’ll keep her on a tight leash.” He slipped his hands over her shoulders and kissed her temple. “I don’t want you to feel like you’re doing this alone.”

She relaxed in his arms. “It’s quite a risk.”

“Everything is, it seems. But I get the feeling if I don’t start putting you and Squid first, I never will.” Armin leaned forward, pouring her tea into her mug, while she stayed curled against his chest. He held the mug and slipped his arm around her shoulders, turning her towards their sofa. “I got a bunch of books to read to Squid when she’s born. But I figure, why wait? This one’s called ‘The Mouse in Moss Hollow.’” He lifted the book, opening it to the first page.

“’Millie was quite a small mouse but she had a big secret—‘“

Annie caught it. “Do you have anything with lots of action and intrigue? Maybe a political thriller?”

“I got books appropriate for kids, Annie.”

“Yeah but… how do you know she wouldn’t like political thrillers?”

“Political thrillers are too complex and scary for kids.”

“What if we read a chapter of both and see which one she likes better?” She tapped her stomach. “That way we know for sure.”

“You’re going to produce another weirdo like you, you know that.” Armin sighed. “Alright. I’ll find a political thriller and we’ll see if she… kicks more when I read it?” He got up and walked towards their library. At the door he stopped, touching a leaf of the Ivy that Annie had trained to climb up a trellis on the wall and turned back to her. “You know it sounds strange but it was that stupid fucking plant that made me think it might be okay. He loves that damn plant.”

—

“Hello.” Zeke waved the Envoy down to a seat in the small room as the man entered. Zeke had chosen a small office on the second floor of the Great House. It was big enough for a desk and a sitting area with two sofa chairs. Zeke had a silver tea serving set on the small table between the chairs. Currently he sat in one. Yelena sat beside him on a side table, gleaming wetly; he’d just finished spritzing her. “I thought we could meet in a more intimate setting.”

The Envoy stopped short, “Who the hell are you?” He was a swarthy man with a casual arrogance about him.

Zeke smiled inwardly, aside from the dark hair and eyes, the Envoy was very similar to himself in many ways. This would be fun. “My name is Zeke Yeager. Think of me as… Alliance Town’s secret weapon.”

“Eren’s brother. The man responsible for ending the military Junta on Paradis. Mitras thanks you for giving the old guard an opportunity to reassert itself.” The Envoy said, with an inflection that suggested he was neither impressed nor particularly thankful. “So you survived.”

“I did.” Zeke said.

“Your resume doesn’t intimidate me.” The Envoy sat down in the chair opposite Zeke. “Mitras is the Eternal City. The centre of the world. We are reborn like the rising sun. We would have ascended again with or without your help.”

“How inspiring.” Zeke hummed thoughtfully. “Are you hiring?”

The Envoy laughed. “I can see you’re very loyal.”

“No reason I can’t moonlight. But my next career move aside…” Zeke leaned forward in his seat to pick up a tea cup. “I have Braun.”

The Envoy raised an eyebrow, steepling his fingers. “Do you?”

Zeke noted the hand gesture. He hid his smile behind his cup of tea as he sipped. _Gotcha._ “Let’s talk price.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poetry is from Wilfred Owen's "The Kind Ghosts" and "Exposure." Owen is considered one of the defining poet-soldiers of World War One. He died in the war, one week before the Armistice at the age of 25. 
> 
> So this now officially takes place in an AU where Levi decided to give himself a break from being further traumatized and cut Zeke free of the founding Titan without killing him.  
> Zeke is still salty about the hell Reiner put him through when he was War Chief (as detailed in my companion work, Rebellion.)
> 
> Also Zeke isn’t lying. ;)
> 
> Brandeis is 9 years older than Mikasa, in case anyone’s wondering. He’s aware that she’s several years younger than Reiner, and he’s always thought of Reiner as solidly “the kid” so he feels it's a little weird for him to pursue a sexual relationship with Mikasa. She’s more than fine with it though. Like, yesterday please, Brandeis.
> 
> Historical fun fact. Psychiatric care during WW1 in the US military was actually better than the first part of WW2. It was understood that the mental breakdown of soldiers in WW1 was due to “sane men being expected to deal with the insane” rather than weakness in the soldiers themselves. In WW1 there was a system in place to deal with psychiatric casualties, treating them first as close to the front lines as possible. This first stage treatment usually resulted in soldiers being able to return to duty after a few days, but if that didn’t happen, they would be taken progressively further from the front lines and if they didn’t respond after six months, discharged.
> 
> In the beginning of WW2 the US military, in its infinite wisdom, decided to ignore the lessons of the past and instituted “screening programs” to remove men they felt would be vulnerable to war neurosis under the assumption that it was weakness in the man and not the situation that caused breakdowns. The result? Two to three times higher rates of psychiatric casualties than WW1. Eventually they had to scrap this approach in favour of returning to the WW1 approach and due to man-power shortages they allowed the men they’d formerly rejected due to “mental health” to serve. These men were more prone to breakdown, but only slightly more, with 80% serving without incident, compared to 93% of regular soldiers.
> 
> Wouldn’t Captain America have been a more interesting story if Steve Rogers had been rejected for a psychiatric reason? :D 
> 
> Also;
> 
> Historia: Did you sleep with Mikasa?  
> Brandeis: Yep. Did you screw Kettler?  
> Historia: Yes.  
> Brandeis: We’re both in deep shit.  
> Historia: Doesn’t matter. Got laid.
> 
> I want to thank everyone who leaves comments, particularly those of you who leave those thoughtful novel length comments. I can't reply to every one of them because I prioritize writing but I just want to say that I read and appreciate every one. Some of you say you look forward to my updates; In the same way I look forward to your comments! :D


	17. Brotherhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hitch gets the last thing she wants from Stein. Pieck and Levi get a surprise visitor. Reiner requests some strategic limoncello.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Stosablanca…
> 
> Hitch *at the Mitras gate with forged papers*: I’m just an average Mitras MP of no particular note.  
> Kemlo: Yep, and I’m part of the Mitras Garrison. Nothing to see here.  
> Stein: Hey! My former partner from Stohess!  
> Hitch: …  
> Hitch: Fuck.

—Mitras East Residential District - 11 Days post declaration of war —

“I got a conduct strike today.” Hitch bit into the warm donut Stein had purchased from a street vendor parked along the promenade. It was sugared and filled with hot custard. He handed her a hot apple cider. She cupped it in her hands and let the warmth seep into her fingers. Very welcome on the cold fall evening. She glanced down the Promenade, a long stretch of cobble and brick pedestrian lanes, lined with trees and shops and full of strolling couples. 

“Already?” He asked, biting into his own. He raised his eyebrows. “Two days. That beats the record you set with your two drunk and disorderlies in one week.”

She kicked at some of the red and gold leaves lining the walk. “Hey. I had a reason for that.”

“Yeah, you were invited to two parties in a week.”

“Well, that’s a reason! Anyway.” Hitch took a sip of cider. “I was assigned to a case of petty theft in Uptown. You know, all the wealthy, connected people. Apparently a fascinator got stolen. A case critical to the wellbeing of the populace in these trying times. The matron of the house showed me a lithograph of the stupid thing and I thought, ‘oh my god, whoever stole this did you a favour.’ Just… ugh. Anyway, she insisted it was her maid and that I search her quarters for it. The poor girl was terrified; just shaking. She told me over and over she was innocent. Of course her job is on the line; well honestly as soon as that woman got it in her head to blame her, she’s probably going to get fired no matter what. I told her, ‘just stay calm, let me take a look around, just because she says you did it, doesn’t mean that’s what the evidence says.’ So I poked around.” She finished her donut and licked the custard from her fingers. “I found bits of shredded fabric on the floor. I figured the maid would have no reason to shred it so I inspected her little gremlin of a dog. As soon as I came near it set itself to this awful shrill barking and then bit me. But it still had sequins and turdy coloured fabric in its teeth. I told her: ‘Ma’am, your nasty little dust mop took one for the team and ate that disgusting fascinator. Get it to a vet. And next time get it to select your accessories, because your dog has better taste than you.’” She picked another donut out of the box. “And that’s why I now have a strike for gross impudence. But, on the positive side, she completely forgot about blaming her maid. So, you know, it ended well.”

Stein laughed silently, like he had the first day.

“You’re always so quiet.” She said. “Like you’re trying to hide all the time.” She bit into the donut. “Um. Spiced apple.” She walked past a dress shop ringing the Promenade and looked at the dresses hung on mannequins in the window. “Hmm.” She stood in front of one. A long clean, lined evening gown in layered silk in a moire pattern. She recognized it as something inspired by mainland fashion. It had none of the fussiness of Island styles: No bustles, wide stiff skirts or petticoats, just flowing fabric intended to accentuate the wearer’s own figure and movement. The mainland had been both more conservative in some ways and more deeply sensual. She sighed and turned away, continuing on.

“You like that?” Stein looked at her sidelong.

Hitch shook her head. “Um. It’d be too expensive.” 

“Watch this. This is hilarious.” Stein caught her arm and opened the door, pulling her inside with him.

“Hello sir, how can I help you?”

“I’d like to get the dress in the window and have it fitted to her.” Stein nodded at Hitch.

“An excellent choice, sir and madam.” The shopkeep nodded. She opened the door to the back warehouse. “I’ll be a moment.”

“Is there anything else you want?”

Hitch stared at him, wide eyed. “No. I can’t.”

Stein smiled at her and stroked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Does it need a shawl or gloves? How about boots?”

“I can’t afford this.”

“It’s on me.”

Hitch sighed, looking down at the ground. “Karl… I can’t accept the dress.”

“Well, then I’ll get it for myself.”

She looked up, shocked. He was already leaned on the shop counter, waving at the shopkeep who had come back with a clipboard and a measuring tape. “Can you fit it to me?”

His statement was so deadpan, his face completely straight, that the shopkeep gaped at him like a fish. “Sir…?”

“No, no, no…” Hitch waved her hands down at both of them. “No. Ignore what this man is saying.” She glared at Stein. “He’s just extorting my consent by threatening me with being an ass.”

“You don’t think I’d look good in it?” He asked in all apparent seriousness.

Hitch stared at him. “You know, you really are straight-faced. It lets you lay out absurdities like land mines.” Hitch turned back to the shopkeep. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fit to me.”

“That’s good because I don’t have anything close to his size in this style…” The shopkeep angled her head. “Would you like to do it now, madam?”

“Sure.” Hitch let the shopkeep lead her to the back. She removed her jacket and overskirt and the woman set about taking her measurements. When she was done she found Stein looking at scarves. She stepped over, scanned the options and picked out a man’s ascot. “Here. Midnight blue.” She stood on one leg and leaned close, showing it to him. “Pale, blue eyed brunette? You are a crisp winter.”

“I was looking for you.” He protested.

“That dress looks best on its own. I don’t need anything more.” Hitch said. She lifted the ascot to his neck and pointed to a mirror. “See. Very handsome.”

He started at his reflection, then closed his eyes, a look of disgust crossing his features. He turned away. Hitch stared after him, her brow drawn. She put the ascot down on the counter with the dress.

“Who do I make the bill of sale out to?” The shopkeep asked, her pen poised before a receipt book.

“Karl Stein.”

“I’m sorry sir, I didn’t realize.” The shopkeep tore up the bill of sale. “Of course this is on us.”

“Not at all.” Stein pulled out a promissory book from the pocket of his great coat. “It’s on the Steward of Mitras.”

When they’d concluded the transaction and were walking on the Promenade again, Hitch looked at Stein. “Is that what you were saying was hilarious? You get everything for free?”

“I guess they’re all trying to earn my favour just in case I invade and take over.”

“Was that a joke?”

He shrugged. “More of a wry observation.”

“What’s it like to be that feared.”

“Honestly?” Stein said. “It’s exhausting and disheartening. I always thought individual sovereignty and dignity was the basis of society. But apparently everything really comes down to fear. You have to be feared to get anything done.”

They turned off the Promenade onto the canal street that ran past Hitch’s billet. Stein looked thoughtful as they walked along the water, swinging their linked hands. “Why did you… give yourself to me?”

Hitch whimpered. “Um. I thought if I did you would lose interest?”

He nodded. “Hm.” His brow drew and he shook his head. “Why?”

“I thought you’d just be interested in the conquest, I guess.”

“Conquest?” He looked at her, confused. “You’re right Hitch. I have all kinds of women after me. They are all attracted to my power, my capacity for violence—”

“I’m sure they’re attracted to you too. I mean, all things aside you are pretty good looking.” She glanced up at him from under her eyelashes. “Particularly when you smile.”

“Thank you, that’s very sweet. I honestly don’t think these women care about my smile, though. I think that’s just you.” Stein’s face twisted into a grimace of discomfort. “They’re attracted to the Warlord Stein. And why would I want to be touched by any one of them? The thought makes me sick. I don’t want conquest. I want someone to sit in parks and eat soup with and talk about cases and laugh with. Just normal stuff. I always really and honestly just wanted to be a detective. I wanted to help people who were hurt. I wanted to be one part of making a city work. Nothing more grand than that.” 

Hitch sighed. “I’m sorry I jerked you around.”

He smiled sadly and shrugged. “Even if it didn’t mean anything to you, it meant a lot to me. So I can’t say I regret you choosing to do it.”

Hitch went silent. She watched the inky water of the canal and the light from the street lights gilding the surface. “I wouldn’t say it meant nothing.” She stopped at her step. “We’ll meet tomorrow?” Hitch asked, catching his hands in hers as she looked up at him.

“I can’t.” He pulled a pair of invitations out of his pocket, showing them to her. “My Council is insisting I go to a Steward’s Reception in the Capitol district. It’s a waste of time, making small talk with worthless free-loaders.”

She looked at them. “Why are they making you do it?”

“They want to introduce me to some women.”

“What.” Hitch said sharply.

“They’re looking to marry me off to someone with good connections. To solidify our faction’s political legitimacy. It never goes anywhere. It’s just our unstated deal. I pretend to entertain their aspirations for a night and they pretend they aren’t going to kill me thus rendering those aspirations moot.”

“I’ll go with you.” Hitch grabbed for one of the invitations.

“No.” He held them up out of her reach.

Before he could slip them back in his pocket, she slid her hands into his great coat and wiggled her fingers up his sides. He convulsed, gasping. “Stop!”

She picked one of the tickets out of his slack fingers as he recovered. He made a grab for it but she spun away and walked up the stoop to the townhouse door.

“Give it back.” He held out his hand for her to hand it back. “You shouldn’t go, it’ll just make you a bigger target.”

She didn’t. Instead she pressed against his chest and kissed him, “Come in for a drink.”

Kemlo was in the sitting room off the main hall when they entered. He folded the newspaper he’d been reading and got up. “Do you want some tea?” He asked them as Stein pulled off his great coat and Hitch slipped out of her frock coat. “I already made a pot. There’s some biscuits and cheese laid out already.” He brought it out of the small main floor kitchen and set out two tea placements, pouring a cup for both of them.

Stein sat in front of one on an armchair. He picked it up, blowing on it to cool it. “I’ve been meaning to ask. How are you two allowed to move around?”

Kemlo chuckled. “They’re just restricting citizens of Alliance Town. Neither of us are registered there. I’m registered to Chlorba.”

Hitch put her tea cup on the table and sat down, glancing between the two of them.

Stein’s guarded look was back. “I see.” He turned to Hitch. “Aren’t you registered to Stohess? I thought they were restricting Stohess citizens too.”

“I was always Rose General.” Hitch said quickly.

“I thought you grew up in Stohess.”

“I was born outside the walls.”

“I didn’t know they were that strict.”

“Well they are.” Kemlo said. “You can ask at the Records hall.”

“Lucky for you then. I have to get a permit to leave the capitol district. And I can only get one because they don’t want to piss me off.” He glanced between both of them and then tapped the sitting room table with his fingers. “Just so you know. I have no reason to assist Mitras with anything that doesn’t end with me killing Engels.”

Kemlo picked up a biscuit. “There are a lot of people in that particular blast zone.”

Stein went silent. He turned the teacup in its saucer. “Your friends. I’m not going all the way to Alliance town. I just break the defence. That’s it.”

“So Mitras can finish the job.” As Kemlo said it, he focused on cutting a piece of cheese for his biscuit. Finished, he pinned Stein with a look. “That’s a mighty fine line there.”

Stein dropped his tea cup back on its saucer. He stood. “I should go.” He walked towards the hat stand where he’d hung his great coat.

“Wait.” Hitch moved to stand with him. “Aren’t you going to stay for supper?”

Kemlo caught her shoulder, pushing her back down. He shook his head at her.

Stein hesitated at the door before opening it. “Goodnight Hitch. Kemlo.”

Kemlo watched the door close behind Stein, then turned to Hitch. “Give him some space to figure his thoughts out.”

—Mascarene Islands, North of Paradis—

Jean looked out over the cliff edge as he rode by on his pony, below was a shanty town, one story lean-toos made out of a cacophony of materials—plywood, cinderblock, serrated tin, cardboard, stainless steel panels—and people shouted and bustled through the dirt lanes, cleaning clothes, carrying materials, chicken coops, children.

“What’s this?” Jean asked Thiébaut. They’d gone a different route back to the Sammezzano resort hotel. This one further inland.

“The Hizuru have started to attack Ashanti islands for their resources. These people have fled the violence and taken refuge here.”

“With the Pirate Queen.”

“Yes.”

Jean watched some of the refugees arguing loudly over a chicken. “Well that’s a dimension I was unaware of.”

“She still hates them irrationally. Going to war against them isn’t going to help these people either.”

“Might help the islands they’re attacking.” Jean hesitated. “As far as I know Hizuru isn’t doing anything aggressive. They’ve been assisting us getting supplies from the mainland caches.”

Thiébaut shrugged. “There are a lot of false flags about so you might be right.”

Jean frowned. “This obviously isn’t ideal, but they don’t look bad off. Clean water, shelter, food and they look healthy.”

“Beatrice is a good benefactor. Or at least she gives them room to build something for themselves in peace.”

Jean chewed that over. “She’s acting pretty extreme right now.”

“When the kind lose hope, it can be a particularly ugly sight.” Thiébaut said.

“You’ve seen that?”

He smiled sadly. “I’ve seen what men become when they’ve lost themselves.”

“I suppose you would have.” Jean shifted in his saddle, turning back towards the path. “Well, we still need to get Reiner out.” He nodded towards the Sammezzano. They could see it down the dirt road at the foot of the small mountain they were descending. It was nestled against the sandy white arm of the bay in the brilliant green of the forest.

As they picked their way closer to the warm terracotta roofs, Jean noticed that there were fewer people out and about than he’d expect for an afternoon. The beach was nearly empty. A tense energy seemed to settle over the buildings. As they got close enough to be heard, he held out his hand to stop Thiébaut and jumped off his pony.

“Let’s leave them here and scout the perimeter of the Resort.” He said. “Something’s wrong.”

—Mitras Gate District—

“Karl knows.” Hitch said, hiding her eyes. She sat with Kemlo on a park bench by one of the Tybur’s safe houses, waiting for Kemlo’s family to arrive on their way to getting out of Mitras. They'd been drinking together. Well mostly her, Kemlo being much more moderate since he wanted to be sober for his family.

“Yep.” Kemlo replied.

“What now?”

“Nothing. His posse of assholes is stuck in Capitol district while he’s here with you. I doubt he wants you closer to them. He has no reason to turn you in. And he basically told us he has no intention of turning you in. Why do you think he told us he won’t assist Mitras?”

Hitch sighed. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Smart man.”

“He was a detective. He might have figured out everything. Including how connected I am to Alliance town. Or your situation.”

“Or might just think you’re trying to game the system and get a place to stay in Mitras. Even if he has figured that much out, does it change anything?” Kemlo frowned. “His Council has to know that he’s doing this. They’re going to act. And what about Mitras?”

“Mitras doesn’t want war. They want Reiner.” Hitch hesitated. “This Steward's Reception gives me an excuse to meet up with my contacts in the Capitol District.”

“And it paints a bigger target on you with Stein’s Council.”

“Your family still is waiting on exit visas. I’m going to make sure they have them by tomorrow night. I can do that, in the Capitol.” Hitch sighed. “But maybe your family is safer staying in Mitras. Considering Alliance Town is going to be invaded.”

“Not if they find out I helped you.”

Hitch looked at him. “Why did you help us?”

“You watched the people we passed? Mitras throws people it doesn’t want out the gates or in the underground and there are more and more of them every year because it doesn’t care to fix its problems. I want my family to have a future and get out before the trap closes shut.” Kemlo sipped from his bottle. “Besides, I think Stein’s giving up on his invasion plans. Every day he stays here, his job breaking the defences gets harder and the likelihood he’ll die doing it increases.”

At that Hitch sobbed so hard and suddenly, it felt like she was choking up thorns. She pressed her hands against her mouth, squeezing her eyes tight against the pain.

“Hey.” Kemlo said. “You starting to fall for him?”

Hitch shook her head, leaning over her knees. “I should have got him out back then. I could have.”

Kemlo held her shoulder. “If it’s any consolation, thank you. You’re giving him a reason to give up and you’re getting my family out of here.” Kemlo smiled ruefully. “Hmph. I’ve never seen such a conflicted honey-pot. You are not suited for this line of work, my dear.”

“I’m not falling for him… I just wish…” Hitch felt the stab of tears, her chest convulsed and she crossed her arms over her stomach. “I wish he could have got more than he did. There’s no way I could ever give him enough.”

Kemlo handed over his bottle of his rotgut. “If that son of a bitch leader of yours ever got his claws in, Stein wouldn’t stand a chance. He’d rearrange his brains.”

She took a gagging gulp. “Which one?”

“The smart, little, evil one. The big one seems sort of dumb actually.”

Hitch snorted and laughed, taking another swallow. Kemlo grabbed it back, putting the cap back on. “He’s not dumb. Well maybe a little dumb. But he’s so hot it doesn’t matter."

"That's interesting logic."

"Jean invites him over to get drunk all the time. The two of them are unbelievable together. Just sloppy. I think Jean has the hots for him. It’s completely subliminal though.” She frowned at the bottle in his hands. “Jean.” She pressed her knuckles, covered by her sweater cuff, against her lips and reached towards the bottle.

Kemlo chuckled and lifted it out of her reach. “I think you’ve had enough. You’re telling me things I honestly don’t want to know.”

She sniffled and rubbed her nose. “I was going to tell Jean that I love him. I didn’t get to do that before he was gone.” Hitch laced her fingers in her hair as she tipped forward. “And now I’m ruining anything I could have had with him. But…” She pressed her fingers against her eyes, tears squeezing out around her fingertips. “I shouldn’t have left Karl. I gave up on him. I chose not to see why he was partnering with the Yeagerists because I hated them so much. What does that make me?”

Kemlo shrugged. “Human? Anyway it’s too late now. The best Karl can hope for is someone to mourn him.”

"One more swig, please?"

Kemlo relented and handed it back.

She took a swallow and smacked her lips at the aftertaste. “What is this awful crap you drink anyway?”

“It’s a local moonshine. I missed it.” 

“It tastes like someone took putrefying black liquorice and mixed it with rat shit. How could you miss this? It’s like missing the stomach flu. Oh.” Hitch looked up, noticing two women and several children, all in traveling cloaks, at the entrance to the park. She shook Kemlo, whispering. “Your family. Go see them.”

Kemlo looked up; relief and love passed over his features and he stood, running to them.

Hitch watched Kemlo hug his wife and two children. The children were crying, obviously missing their dad something terrible. She didn’t get up, giving them space and time to themselves. Their escort noticed her and started to walk over. Hitch finally got up when she saw the other woman coming over.

She hugged the woman as if they were best friends. As they held each other in a simulacra of intimacy, Hitch whispered to her. “You get them to the gate tomorrow. I’m going to the capitol to make sure their visas are ready and waiting for them.”

The other woman nodded, saying nothing more. When they broke apart Hitch sat back down on the park bench with her and engaged in small talk while Kemlo visited with his family.

Eventually the Kemlo family walked over to them. Hitch stood, smiling.

“Oh my god. Look at your adorable ginger children, Glenn.” Hitch knelt down to be eye level with the youngest. “What’s your name?”

“Brodie.” He said around his fingers.

“How old are you Brodie?”

He put up three sticky fingers. Hitch grinned. “Three. That old? Do you know what they have on the boat you'll be taking? Taffy.” She leaned close as if telling him a secret. “All kinds of flavours.”

Brodie pondered this solemnly.“Booger?” 

Hitch thought for a second. “You might have to ask them to make that just for you.”

Brodie giggled. “Naw.”

She stroked his hair and stood up. The older girl looked more nervous. Hitch smiled at her. “There are lots of girls your age in town; we even have a school. Not just apprenticeships, a real school.” She turned to their mother. “You’ll have your visas tomorrow at the gate. Everything will be fine.”

The woman nodded. Hitch could tell she was trying hard not to cry.

“I’ll see you when it’s all done.” Hitch said.

The woman grabbed her hand. “Thank you.”

She nodded back, stepping away and watching as Kemlo give them all a final hug. The woman started to sob, unable to hold it back. Eventually their escort pulled her and her children back, they had to get to their checkpoint. Kemlo watched them go; Hitch could feel the agony in his tense features.

“You should go with them.”

Kemlo shook his head. “I promised Eberhardt I’d protect you. Besides, the longer I stay on the job, the better chance they have to escape.”

—Mascarene Islands, North of Paradis—

“You all have been getting up to some extracurriculars in my absence. Sneaking around; stirring up dissent; fucking my sister. And it looks like we can’t sell you anymore.” Barns pressed a pistol to the back of Reiner’s head as Reiner sat up from the nest of blankets on the floor where he'd been sleeping.“You can’t survive a head-shot. Hands up.”

Reiner lifted his hands. Talia emerged from his ensuite; glass shattered as she dropped the water in her hands and stared at Barns and his posse of goons. Then, inexplicably, launched herself at Barns.

“Talia!” Reiner said. “Stop!”

One of Barns goons caught her and her forward momentum lifted her off the floor. With the reflexes of a cat, she shifted in mid air and latched herself to the man’s back, clawing his neck and sinking her teeth into his ear.

“Watch out, she bites.” Reiner said helpfully. “Just distract her with some limoncello. She likes that.”

“Get her off!” The man yelled, spinning around, trying to grab at her.

Barns yanked Reiner sideways by his arm, shoving the barrel of the gun into the side of his head hard enough to make Reiner wince. “Do you not see that I have a pistol to his head, woman?”

“Jokes on you.” Reiner grimaced. “Talia listens to no one.”

Talia switched her grip to a sleeper hold and the man started to gasp and clutch at her arms, then tried slamming her up against the wall. In response she snarled and put the hold on tighter. The man’s knees buckled as he lost consciousness and she sprang off him, shoving a chest of drawers down in front of the door and mounting it in a fighting crouch.

“What the hell?” Barns’ voice was flatly astounded. “I have a gun to his head. You’ve lost!”

“I’m telling you, bribe her with a bottle of limoncello.” Reiner said.

Barns blew out a breath. He jerked his chin at one of his posse. “One of you call room service. And someone make sure he’s still breathing.” He nodded to the downed man.

One of the goons holstered his gun and moved to the telephone by the front door. Another knelt by his fallen comrade.

“Talia.” Reiner called out. She looked up at him, panting and worried. “I’ll be fine. He won’t shoot me, but they will shoot you, so take the limoncello and just let them do what they want.” 

“Good.” Barns readjusted his grip on Reiner’s arm. “Talk her down.” 

“Barns.” Reiner switched focus. “I’m not your enemy. You sister has decided to die. She’s severely depressed. You can ignore that and try to continue on as if it’s not happening, but she will drag you both down eventually. She needs hope more than anything, not revenge. You all do.”

“And you got that do you?”

“You don’t have as much leverage as you think.”

“Really?” Barns grunted, pressing the barrel harder into Reiner’s skull. “You want to test that?”

“What you told me you knew is a combination of the truth and bullshit designed to make you think you know more than you do. I didn’t put it together until I found out we’re on Ogygia. There’s a bit of history between the Warriors and Ogygia. It was a good bluff, put me off balance for awhile. But I’m calling it.”

“We have more than one agent.”

“Oh I’m sure you can still do a lot of damage. No doubt. That’s why I’m going to offer you a deal.”

Barns snorted and laughed. “As soon as we get this crazy bitch out of the way, we’re throwing you into a stone hole sixty feet deep. No deals.”

“Who is the Yeagerist you were going to sell me too?”

“Stein.”

“He hates us most does he?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll show you I can bring him to heel.”

“You’ll kill him will you?”

“No. I’ll get you your money and get him to agree to work with us. If I can do that, don’t you think I can convince the Hizuru to leave you alone?”

“I have met Stein, you stupid bastard. I see what he’s done in Stohess. He flogs anyone who criticizes Eren Yeager or promotes ‘humanist propaganda’ about non-Paradisian being actual humans. He doesn’t recognize anything off the Island as human; he only talked with me because he hates Marleyans more. If you can get that man to work with you then you are some kind of God. Your bet is a joke.”

“If I lose I’ll give you Alliance town.”

Barnes hesitated. “And if you win?”

“You give me your fleet.” Reiner smiled. “Like you said, I’d have to be a God to convince him. You have nothing to lose.”

“Fine. But I’m not letting you go, so good luck convincing him from the bottom of an oubliette.”

There was a knock at the door. Everyone in the room turned to look.

“Room service. We have your limoncello sir!”

—Mitras Chancellory—

“Hitch Dreyse—“

Hitch waved the Herald quiet. “You don’t have to continue.“

“Hitch Dreyse, Detective… Mitras Military Police.” The Herald trailed off his announcement to the entire Steward's Reception. He flipped the card over. “That’s it?”

Hitch ducked around the Herald and waved awkwardly. “Hello everyone. Yes, I work for a living.”

The crowd at the bottom of the entry stair to the Steward’s Reception went silent and stared at her. At least two hundred of Mitras’ High Society. She’d used the invite to the event to re-enter the Capitol District and spent half a day pressuring her contact at the visa office into expediting some forgery; finally the harried bureaucrat had given in, done her illegal job, and sent a runner to the gate. Ironically Hitch was better connected than anyone in the room, just no one could know about it. She smiled uncomfortably, letting her hand drop.

The Herald stared at her. “How did you get an invitation?”

“Hitch!”

She looked down the stairs of the Reception hall at Stein. He stood at the foot, waving her to him, looking infuriated.

“Oh. Him.” The Herald said. “Please forgive my rudeness, Mistress Dreyse.” He bowed with a flourish and waved for her satchel. She gave it up.

Stein met her half way up the stair and offered his arm to her. She took it and they descended; Hitch continuing to offer an uncomfortable rictus of a smile to the ones still staring at them. They must have looked quite a pair; Stein wore his dress uniform, which, since he was Yeagerist and thus not officially recognized as Paradis Military looked like a regular military uniform, except clean, the tears repaired and the blood stains relatively discreet. Next to the polished brass, gleaming knotted rope and handsome tailoring of the other officers, he managed to look both drab and carry an air of profound menace. She also noticed that her dress was certainly not standard issue either; it was the most beautiful dress in the room as far as she was concerned, but where the other dresses took up space and turned their wearers into parade floats—intended to take up territory as a display of social dominance—hers glided along with her and accentuated every movement. She hadn’t really expected to need a dress in Mitras but she figured it was better than showing up in her police uniform.

Stein scanned the floor and the assembled people like he was looking for a bolt hole under mortar fire and frowned. “Let’s dance.” He turned to her, offering his hand.

She took it and he pulled her onto the floor. It was a simple one-two waltz; the music was boring as hell as was the dance, but apparently Stein found it safer than the alternatives.

With her chest against his, she could feel his heart beating rapidly; She glanced up at him and saw him staring at someone in the crowd surrounding the dance floor. She followed his gaze. It was a woman, average height and dark haired, plain except for a look of uncompromising brutality. Even without context, Hitch would have pegged her as trouble. She was one of the fanatical Yeagerists that had surrounded him the first day at City Hall. She was flanked by a few of the others, all staring at him with hot, furious jealousy.

“They’re possessive.” Hitch whispered. The skin of her neck itched whenever Stein turned her away from them. She knew they were glaring at her too.

“We’re arguing.” He whispered back.“They want me to march now. I’ve told them to go fuck themselves.”

“Huh?” Hitch gaped at him.

“What Kettler’s envoy promised me is intelligence that’ll allow me to assassinate Engels. I could go now and we could raze Karanese to the ground, but I would prefer just to kill Engels. Not the whole city.” He swept her around and she was once again facing his Council and that thuggish woman. He moved his head faintly to indicate his Council. “Our original argument was over our target. Alliance town or Engels. Most of my men are loyal to me. They want to kill Engels.” He leaned close. "Hitch, I know your friends are human. I know everyone outside the island is human too. The problem is people get killed when you let them argue who is and isn't human. Particularly now when everyone on the island is complicit in killing billions of innocents. We all know what we did. I don't want more people to die over that argument. Alliance town is... judgement day for us. Most of us don't want to recognize it exists at all. Except for those assholes who are hell bent on murdering you because they think it’ll give them peace of mind. My Council’s only hesitation is that they don’t trust Mitras. And they shouldn’t. I don’t either. I don’t believe Kettler’s envoy really has the information I need on Engels. I think it was a pretext by Kettler and Mitras to get me here. So my men and I are just going to march back to Stohess. I’m done with this place.”

Hitch grabbed his chest, rising on her toes to whisper into his ear. “Will they just let that happen.”

He said nothing. There was a break in the music, Stein escorted her off the dance floor. “Let’s leave.”

“Stein. Come here.”

The dark haired Yeagerist woman caught his wrist and Stein didn’t protest in the slightest, he just let her pull him away from Hitch and lead him to parts unknown.

Hitch started, confused. Stein had a meekness around this woman that was horrifying. “What are you doing?” Hitch stepped in front of her. “Let him go.”

The Yeagerist woman frowned at her, then with barely a flicker of a tell, sucker punched her.

Hitch managed to step back before getting hit square on; the punch glanced against her jaw, bloodying her nose. Hitch pressed her fingers to her nose. “You bitch. This dress is expensive.”

The woman sneered but this time Hitch moved quicker, ducking under the woman’s strike and sliding behind her, grabbing her wrist and shoulder and pulling her in a smooth arc to the ground. She dropped her knee on the woman’s side and twisted her arm against her own chest. The woman squealed in pain. “I’m inclined to dislocate your shoulder for that. Attacking a police officer.” Hitch said, mildly.

Only then with the Yeagerist subdued did she realize she’d drawn a horrified crowd, including several City Hall Guards. She stared at the heavily powdered faces in the crowd—male and female—clucking with disgust at the violence. 

“I think you should leave.” One of the Guard knelt beside her, urging her to release her hold. “We saw the whole thing and we know she started it.” He nodded at the Yeagerist woman then he turned to Stein. “But we’ll take you back to your rooms, sir.”

Hitch released the Yeagerist and stepped back, picking up a cloth napkin from the refreshments table and pressing it to her bloody nose. Then grabbed a champagne bottle from an ice bucket at the refreshments table and pressed it against her bruised face. One of the waiters offered a brief protest before being stared down by Stein.

Stein caught her shoulders. “We were just going.” He said to the Guard. Stein stared at his Council. Hitch followed his gaze, they were watching them both, pacing some invisible dividing line at the edge of the dancing floor like predators testing a territorial edge. He glanced at the Guard. “I’ll take your escort.”

Stein waved Hitch to walk in front of him; several more Guards moved from their positions around the Reception Hall and they left, flanked by armed men in flashy red and gold uniforms. Hitch pulled the napkin from her face, sniffing and rubbing her nose with her fingertips. The bleeding had stopped. As they left the Hall the Herald handed her satchel to Stein, who threw it over his shoulder. Once they were out in the gilt and titanium white corridor beyond she decided to take a swig from the bottle. The Guards turned them towards the guest residences.

“You going to drink all that?” Stein remarked, moving to walk beside her.

“That’s the plan.” Hitch said, setting the bloody napkin on a table with decorative vases as they walked past it.

He frowned and took the bottle from her. He took a pull too. “You made quite a scene.”

“She was bullying you.”

He shook his head. “I owe her my life. She was the one who patched me back up in Stohess.”

Hitch grabbed the bottle back as they turned onto the stair taking them to the guest apartments. “You’re okay with letting them do whatever they want to you?”

He closed his eyes. “Isn’t it enough that I’m not doing what they want?”

Hitch fumed. She drank steadily as they ascended and felt a sudden wave of dizziness once they hit the third floor landing. She nearly tripped over the last stair, misjudging the distance, and dropped the bottle.

Stein picked up the bottle before it spilled. “Hitch, you’re drunk.”

“Not drunk enough.” She looked up the stair case. “How far up are you?”

“Fifth floor.” 

“Nope.” She turned around and sat down on the stair. “I’m done.”

Stein sighed and slid his arms under her back and knees. She yelped as he lifted her into the air and started climbing the stairs. “You’re such a pain in the ass.”

“Why are you giving up, Karl?”

He didn’t answer, carrying her up the stairs steadily, then down the hall on the fifth floor. The Guards trailed them, bored and tolerant. One of them opened Stein’s door and they all stopped at the threshold.

His receiving rooms were full of young soldiers. They looked up from cards and marbles when he entered, pulling themselves to attention. “At ease.” He said as he walked through them. Hitch watched them, catching Stein’s neck and pulling herself closer to his chest, her stomach clenching at the sight of so many Yeagerists staring at her with interest tinged by sexual curiosity. Stein walked through the archway to the apartment beyond.

“I told them to stay here.” Stein explained as he moved to one of the rooms past the main sitting area—a large master bedroom with high arched ceilings, painted with murals of garden scenes, men and women in colourful clothes frolicking under ejaculations of frothy green foliage. Hitch blinked up at them—pondering the suggestive intentions of the artist—as Stein closed the door and continued. “I’ve just made them targets. They’re loyal to me. And it’s best if they stay together since the Council is drawing battle lines.” He laid her down in the master bed. “I should take you back to your billet. You aren’t safe here and you have an out.”

“The Council isn’t your fate, Karl.”

“They’ve been promising to kill me for as long as I’ve known them. Besides.” He looked at her. “I don’t have anywhere else to be.”

She stroked the dark hair over his temple. “Why did you decide to give up on Engels?”

He ignored her question and caught her hand, kissing the inside of her wrist. “I love you.”

She sat up and frowned at him. “Why?”

“Why?” He rolled his eyes, rubbing her palm with his thumb in slow circles despite his apparent annoyance. “Because you care about people even when you try to pretend not to for reasons that only make sense to you as you aren’t fooling anyone. Because you’re funny. Because I’ve been complimented exactly four times in my life and three of them were from you. Because you were the only one who made sure I had lunch. Because you make the world feel real. Most of the time I feel like I’m walking in a dream. More like a nightmare actually. Felt like I woke up when I saw you again.” He chuckled faintly. “‘Why?’ At least you believe me this time. That’s an improvement. I’m making progress.”

“You remember what I said.” Hitch grimaced, gritting her teeth in embarrassment.

“I don’t think I’d ever forget it. ‘What, for real?’” He sighed. “Ouch.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Eh.” He shrugged. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“Don’t I? You’re my partner. I disappeared when I should have been there for you—“

“You got kidnapped.” He stared at her. “I keep having to remind you.”

Hitch glanced away from him. “You have a balcony.” She stood, moving off of the bed, taking off her shoes and walking to the balcony doors.

She felt his hands on her shoulders before she could step through. “It’s cold.” He pulled her back against his chest, slipping his hands around her waist. “That dress is a scandal. Everyone was looking at you. It never occurred to me, but every other woman’s dress looked like a uniform declaring her status. That one looks like you chose it for someone. Every man there wanted to be that someone.” 

She blushed. “I’m nothing special.”

He kissed her neck. She bit her lip, closing her eyes. He was like a furnace at her back and his mouth on her neck set a shiver through her. Every where she turned was regret. She’d betrayed Karl by leaving him behind. Now she was betraying Jean for wanting Karl back.

She wiped her eyes and pulled out of his grip with a force of will, walking over to the small table in his room. He had a fifth of whiskey on it and a glass. She poured herself a shot and sipped it. Eventually she knocked it back and moved to pour another.

Stein took the bottle away. “Hitch. What’s wrong?”

She looked at him. “You’ve decided to die.”

“Yes.” He said. “I knew I would die the moment I walked into Mitras. You don’t have to do anything. You don’t owe me anything. If there was anything you wanted from me, you have it now.”

Hitch sat down at the table, leaning on her elbows and hiding her face in her hands as she sobbed.

“What’s wrong?”

She felt his hand on her shoulders. She slapped it away and stood, grabbing his bolo tie—his only concession to Mitras military fashion—and pulling him down to kiss him.

“I have nothing left to give you.” He said running the back of his fingers down her face, his voice rough. “You got it all. You don't need to do this.”

Hitch sighed. “You’re wrong.” She kissed him again, then walked past him, focusing a bit to keep her balance. She opened the balcony doors and turned around to smile at him, beckoning him. She walked backwards till she hit the rail and then moved to sit on it—

“No!” He caught her around her waist. “That’s a fifty foot drop! Get back inside, it’s cold, you’ll get sick. Also.” He glanced around. “Anyone could see.”

“All the guests are at that awful Reception.” She grabbed his hand and changed her target to the iron table on the deck, slipping backwards on the surface till her hips hit the short length of rail sticking over the table top.

He took a sharp breath in. “That’s dangerous.”

She pulled him closer and cupped his cheek. “You have beautiful eyes. You know that? They’re so blue. Like a clear autumn sky.”

Stein snorted softly and caught her hand in his. “And that’s five. I don’t think anyone but you has ever cared to notice.”

She smiled at him and hiked her dress up, hooking her panties and lifting her hips toslide them slowly down her thighs. She lifted one leg to slip it out, then continued to slide them off the other, staring at Stein steadily as she did so.

He watched her in silence.

“Keep me warm.” She said as she let them fall to the deck.

He stepped towards her, leaning over her, the heels of his hands on the railing behind her. He lifted her chin with his knuckles and kissed her.“This is extortion.” He was already breathing hard. “You’re going to regret this. Going this far with me.”

“Far?” She said. “I’ve already gone this far with you.”

“No. Now you want me.” He whispered against her ear. “That’s the last thing right?”

“Yes.” She said, slipping one arm around his chest, the other around his shoulders, her hand against the back of his head. He kissed her neck and slid his hand up her thigh, lifting her dress. She closed her eyes. “I won’t regret it. I promise you.”

—Mitras Central District —

“It was like being drunk.” Levi rubbed his eyes.

“Uhm.” Pieck said. Then bit the side of her lip. She leaned towards him, whispering. “Did you see where my panties went?”

Levi picked them up and handed them to her without a word. He frowned at the grim smeared on the lace and she gave him a wincing sort of smile as she took them. He buttoned up his fly and redid his belt. “I don’t think I’ve ever needed to fuck that badly in my life.”

“What do you think that was?” Pieck asked, pulling her underwear on and tidying her dress and vest.

“Whatever it was, we’ll have to do it again.” Levi said. His lip curled. “Somewhere cleaner.”

“Oh.” Pieck pressed her hands to her stomach. “What if I get pregnant?”

“Pregnant?” Levi looked at her, surprised. “But you’re...“

“We might be playing with fire.” Pieck pressed her hand against her lips. “We don’t know the purpose of this… is it an energy? I don’t—”

“Shh.” Levi held up his hand. “I hear footsteps.”

He slipped back in the dark, getting an angle on the door and pulling his Mauser out of its chest holster. He aimed a foot above the door knob; He jerked his head at Pieck and she moved to the door jamb, crouching beside the door, her own side arm drawn.

“Levi Ackerman? Pieck Finger?” A voice called through the door. “Are you done?”

Levi looked at Pieck, who looked back, eyes wide. She mouthed the word “what?”

“Who is this?” Levi raised his voice to carry.

“Your contact.”

“How can we know?”

“Double Duce.” He replied. Levi nodded, it was the code. 

Levi jerked his head at Pieck again and she moved to open the door. It swung back and a man stepped through, his hands up. “Do you believe me?”

“Get in here. Close the door.” Levi lowered the gun after the man had done as he was told. “How did you find us?”

“I noticed you were being tailed so I tailed them. Stroke of luck that you ducked in here. We know the landlord. Just about the only luck we’ve got right now.” The man shook his head, he looked exhausted. “You can’t go back to the Capitol District. You have to disappear. Now.”

“What about our friends? Hitch, Kemlo, Eberhardt?”

“We’ll do what we can.”

—Mitras Chancellory Guest Residences—

Hitch jerked awake at the pounding on the door. She glanced around. Stein was laid out beside her. Dead to the world as usual. “Wait! We need time to get up.” She called to whomever was at the door.

She heard them respond with a giggle at hearing her instead of him. “Fucking juvenile.” She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. It was still dark out and she still felt drunk so it probably hadn’t been long since… She sighed and looked down at Stein; she leaned on her knees, pressing her thumb to her lips. She lay down and nestled her head against his shoulder. “I’m sorry I abandoned you. I regret it so much. I'm sorry I jerked you around. I'm sorry I used you. I love you.” She mouthed it with no sound.

The person at the door pounded on it again.

“That wasn’t enough time!” She sat up again and pushed at Stein’s shoulder. “Get up.”

He blinked awake. “What?”

“One of your idiots is at the door.” 

“What do you want?” He shouted at the door, pulling himself to a sitting position and rubbing his eyes.

“A bunch of Marleyans are outside the front. They say they overheard the Council plotting against you.”

Stein frowned. “What you just said made no sense.”

“Their leader’s name is Eberhardt.”

Hitch looked at Stein. “He’s my squad leader. The one—“

“That got in my face the first day?” Stein raised his eyebrows. “Okay.” He got out of bed and started to pull on his fatigues. “Get into your uniform, we’ll probably have to do some running tonight.”

Hitch slipped out of bed. She picked up her dress from where it had been tossed and her satchel from where Stein had placed it. She pulled out her uniform and boots, then rolled the dress up with a dissatisfied hiss and carefully placed it in a section of her satchel where it should see the least stress. After a few more moments she was dressed in her plain brown trousers and over-shirt.

Stein moved to the door once she was decent and opened it. “Let’s go talk to him.” He said to the soldier who’d roused them. “Thanks Smith.” Stein said as he passed him.

They found Eberhardt on one side of the receiving room with Stein’s men on the other, watching him suspiciously, their hands on their side arms.

“Are there more?” Stein asked.

“Yeah out in the hall, sir.” Smith said.

Stein opened the door and waved them in. “Get in. It’s better for you to be in here than out there where you can be seen.”

Hitch’s squad filtered in; they kept their recognition of her as subtle as possible. They knew she might be in a fragile position and were disciplined about keeping their attachment under wraps.

Hitch felt a distinct air of hostility with the two groups of men in close proximity.

“I’ll start. We’ve been tailing your Council with one of our boys.” Eberhardt said, staring at Stein. “They’re actively planning your assassination.”

Stein stared back, shrugging. “They always are.”

“They’re recruiting soldiers to do it, Stein.”

“They’ve finally decided on a date have they?”

Eberhardt folded his arms over his chest. “You’re really glib about you own life. They also mentioned her. She’ll be their first target.”

This made Stein stop short. He turned to Hitch, grabbing her wrist and pulling her closer. “I told you not to come.”

Hitch glared at him. “I had other things I needed to get done that you don’t know about.”

“You didn’t need to go to the Steward’s reception.”

Hitch thought of the Yeagerist woman and his unsettling meekness towards her. “I think I did.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Eberhardt interrupted their standoff. “They were talking about her well before the Reception. In the end it benefited us. They couldn’t do anything while you were being escorted back by a guard.”

“What do we do now?” Hitch asked.

“Are they going to go after you lot?” Stein asked, nodding at the Alliance soldiers.

“No.” Eberhardt said. “We could just walk away and let them kill you. Except you’ve decided not to march on Alliance town. And your Council has decided to march on Alliance town. So it’s in our interests to put our muscle behind you and your position.”

Stein looked over the assembled soldiers, Canties, Yeagerists and Garrison from Alliance. “We have almost thirty men between us. If we stick together it’s going to take them time to gather up enough forces to pose a threat.” 

Smith stepped towards Stein, furious. “Work with them? They’re Marleyan!”

“Smith.” Stein warned.

“We’re not Marleyan.” Eberhardt’s face took on a scary vehemence as his voice lowered to a growl. “I’m a Cantie. If there was a line to kill Marley, Canties would be at the very front. If it hadn’t cost us our home town, we’d all be cheering Eren Yeager on. Even so, we were all fixing to set Cantata on fire to kill Marley ourselves.”

Smith narrowed his eyes. “That doesn’t mean we can trust you. You want us dead too.”

“I’ll only kill you all on the battlefield. In Norden Valley. But it sounds like you aren’t going.” Eberhardt said. “Until that changes, I see no reason not to work together to get the fuck out of Mitras.”

“He didn’t have to tell us about the Council’s plans to kill me, Smith.” Stein pointed out. “And there’s one thing both of us can agree on.” He looked towards Hitch.

She blinked as she suddenly became the centre of attention of all the men in the room. “Huh?”

Smith went still, watching Hitch. “Who is she?”

“She was my partner in Stohess. Before all this.” He said it with reverence and in response the other Yeagerists stared at her with bizarre awe.

She grimaced. “Wha…?” With uncomfortable clarity she realized they all had dreams of a better world and somehow old Stohess—and by extension _she_ —was a symbol of it. She glanced between them and the Canties--the men who'd spent more than a year protecting her as she did her work saving people--and saw the Canties watching their awe with a sort of grudging approval. 

“Work with Eberhardt.” Stein glanced at Smith then looked between the others. “You all stay here. The Council is going to find and kill everyone loyal to me. Don’t go anywhere alone, they’ll try to pick you off.”

"Stein's the only one here who can leave the Capitol District." Eberhardt caught Hitch’s shoulders, ducking to eye level. “Until you get out of the District, stay close to Stein, follow his lead. Get Kemlo and after that stay by Kemlo and get in position to get out. Alright?” Eberhardt looked at Stein, frowning.

“You still worried I’m a threat to her?” Stein asked sullenly.

Eberhardt turned square to him. “No. I thought you were more of a monster, but that’s not your problem. You’ve given up. I don’t like that. You have need of some fixing.” He grabbed Steins’ lapels and shoved him. Stein stared at him, confused.

“What are you doing?” Hitch said, stepping forward. “Stop it, Ebby!” One of Eberhardt’s men caught her shoulder, shaking his head.

“Stay back.” Stein lifted his hand to ward off his men who’d risen to his defense.

In response Eberhardt shoved Stein again, harder, until he’d slammed Stein up against the wall. “You listen to me, we’re all sinners. But some of us are decent enough to know it. That’s exactly the kind of sinner the world needs. So fight.” Eberhardt’s voice was barely more than a growl. He slammed Stein up against the wall again. “Fight!”

Faster than Hitch could follow Eberhardt was on the ground, spitting out blood. Reconstructing it, Hitch figured Stein had swept Eberhardt’s foot and got in an open palm strike to his jaw. Eberhardt got to his feet an instant later and ran his finger inside his bleeding lip. He grinned up at Stein, his teeth bloody. “Good. You do have fight left. Take her. Get her out of your Council’s kill box.” Eberhardt unbuckled his holster and bandolier. “You just have a shitty one-shot punch pistol. Probably get killed before you can load it. Here. Take a real side arm.”

Stein took the Mauser from Eberhardt and raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to walk around here unarmed?”

“Unarmed?” Eberhardt gave him a cock-eyed smile. “I have my knife and skull crusher. I’d rather have them than the Mauser. Get going.”

“They’ll be watching the halls.” Smith warned.

Stein grabbed Hitch’s upper arm and pulled her towards his bedroom. “Then we’ll go out through the balcony.”

“It’s fifty feet!” Hitch protested as they ran through the apartment to Stein’s bedroom.

“Yeah, if you take it all at once. We’ll drop from balcony to balcony. No great coat?” Stein looked back. “It’s cold.”

Hitch waved him off. “I’ll be fine. I’ll be running.”

He frowned and opened his wardrobe, pulling out a heavy trench coat. “Here.” He dropped it on her shoulders.

It was ridiculously huge, the sleeves covered her hands and inches more. “I’m not going to be able to climb in this.” She said. 

He took the coat back and folded it over his shoulder. “Lets go.” He opened the door to the balcony and stepped over to the railing, stepping over the top and crouching as he balanced on the other side and, grabbing the bracing, lowered himself down to the balcony below, jumping the last few feet.

Hitch looked over the edge. She swallowed, feeling nauseous. “My God.” 

“I’ll catch you.” Stein waved from the balcony below. Hitch took a deep breath and stepped over the rail, slipping down into a crouch on the other side and getting a death grip on the railing. She slipped one leg down and felt Stein grab it; she dropped the other and he guided her down.

She breathed out hard as she felt firm ground beneath her feet again. “Damn. That wasn’t so bad.”

She heard a loud gasp. Past Stein’s shoulder in the apartment beyond she saw a fat man naked on a bed but for a Merry Widow and a powdered wig sitting in bed with a prostitute in jockey outfit and riding crop.

“What?” Hitch blinked and then looked up at Stein.

“Let’s get down quickly.” He said with his usual straight face. He jumped over the rail, this time catching the balcony floor and jumping down instead of lowering himself. Hitch followed him.

“Lovely garters sir!” Hitch called as she disappeared over the edge. She landed in a crouch beside Stein. 

Stein rolled his eyes at her.

“Hey, humour can be very lubricating in awkward positions.”

He sighed deeply, closing his eyes. “Stop.”

They made quick work of the final balconies; their final jump was into the cool, dark lawn beyond the residences.

Stein glanced back where they came. “His weapons of choice are a knife and a hammer?” Stein caught Hitch’s shoulders and urged her forward across the dark lawn. “That’s a dangerous man. I wish he was coming with us.”

When they were past the Capitol District check point—the Guard had been bored and stamped their papers with a perfunctory disinterest—Hitch notice that Stein was fairly vibrating with excitement. Apparently Eberhardt’s pep… beating was having a positive effect.

He trotted beside her, looking a lot younger now that he was barely containing his energy. “You have a way of getting out, right? You didn’t infiltrate Mitras without an extraction plan?”

Hitch hesitated. “How long did you know?”

He glanced at her. “Since the first day. I knew you were working with Alliance town, not just escorting them with Kemlo. And I figured out that you were using Kemlo as a double agent to hide your tracks. Don’t tell me anything more. I don’t need to know it and I stopped looking into it after I figured out none of them were a threat to you.”

Hitch swallowed. “Karl it wasn’t all a lie.” She felt tears prick her eyes.

He smiled at her. A genuine smile, if sad. “I know it wasn’t. Thank you.”

“You’re coming with me right?”

“No. I’m not. If I go with you, I’ll just drag them after me. I’m going back with Smith and Eberhardt. We’ll face them there and wait for your friends.” He shook his head at her frown. “This is for the best. I’ve been Infantry for two years now, you’re an MP.”

As they neared Hitche’s Billet, she felt a sense of unease. It seemed too quiet. Usually there was a bit of bustle from the servants and for some reason the lights were off on the top floor. Kemlo should have been home by then. 

“Karl.” She said.

His brow drew as he looked at the townhouse. “Yeah I feel it too.” He unholstered Eberhardt’s Mauser.

Hitch pulled her pistol out of her satchel. They approached the front door.

Just as they hit the front stoop, there was series of heavy thumps and shouts from the sitting room.

Glass shattered; Hitch flinched back, shielding her eyes from the shards, as someone launched themselves through the sitting room window, followed by the whip crack of fired shots.

Hitch crouched instinctively, levelling her pistol towards the origin of the shots. She projected her voice. “Throw your weapons down, this is the Mitras Police.” 

“Hitch.”

Kemlo. Hitch stared in shock. He was the one who’d fallen through the window. Red roses of blood bloomed on his chest, his face lacerated by the glass. “Hitch. Run.”

The front door opened.

Stein levelled his pistol, but he hesitated to shoot, looking conflicted as soon as he saw their uniforms.

Hitch stared at them in shock. “You’re Military Polices.”

“Put your weapons down.” The Lieutenant in charge commanded. He jerked his head towards Kemlo and one of the men behind him walked over and levelled his pistol, shooting Kemlo in the head. Kemlo jerked and then fell still, and Hitch listened to the horrible sound of his blood pouring out like a drain.

Hitch dropped her pistol in shock and crawled over to Kemlo. “You murdered him!”

One of the MPs grabbed her arm, wrenching it behind her back, forcing her forward against Kemlo’s body.

“You murdered him!” She screamed back at them, trying to pull out of the man’s grip. He put more pressure on. Her shoulder felt like it tore open, sending lancing pain through her chest. She sobbed against Kemlo’s great coat. “Kemlo…”

“Get off her!”

The pressure lifted from her joint and she gasped in relief, glancing back. Stein had wrestled the MP off, catching him in a joint lock and kicking out his leg, shoving him to the ground.

Again gunfire stabbed her eardrums. Stein staggered back, dropping the Mauser. Blood splattered the pavement.

“Karl!”

The other MPs rushed him.

Hitch pushed herself to her knees; the motion made her shoulder split open in agony and she retched, spitting saliva and stomach acid.

One of the MPs hit the floor, blood flowing down his lower face; Stein had managed to break his nose with a head butt. The man scrambled back as Stein continued to struggle with the three remaining; they couldn’t get a solid hold on him.

Another MP walked from the hall, club in hand and started a swing from Stein’s blindspot—

“Karl!” Hitch bolted to her feet and reached out with her uninjured arm.

Stein only had time to half turn before the club came down across his temple; he went down like a rag doll. Hitch only had time to get her shoulder under him and her working arm around his chest to slow his fall. She didn’t have the strength to stop him from tumbling out of her arms. Hitch stared in shock as blood pooled on the cobblestone under his head.

The MP who’d first attempted to wrestle her returned, cuffs in hand. This time she submitted in silence as he cuffed her, even as her shoulder wailed in protest, her eyes not leaving Stein’s pale face and the blood.

“Hitch Dreyse, you’re under arrest as an accessory to Glenn Kemlo’s treason against the Crown.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the novella! Thanks for reading! Leave a comment! Not much else to say with this one! :D


	18. The Eternal City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All roads lead to Mitras. Historia considers an engagement with Kettler. Brandeis has a heart to heart with Mikasa. Gabi finally gets a piece of the action. Annie gets a visit from family. Jean continues to carry Reiner and prove himself Most Valuable Horse. Hitch... is not having a good time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter includes threats of rape.

Jean watched Ronal’s acolytes fan out over the rocky shelf behind the Sammezzano. They were dark shadows sliding against the light rock, edged with silver by the half moon. One of the five teams of two stood up and made a call like one of the brightly coloured island birds. The rest immediately scattered, darting for the dense green of the jungle.

Jean folded up his binoculars and started picking his way down the rocky slope to their meeting point.

At the bottom of the rocky outcropping, the acolytes were quietly seated, waiting for him. Vaea was the one who’d found the opening to the oubliette. Jean stood, addressing all of them. “I’ll take Vaea, Lagi and Talia to get Reiner out. The rest of you wait here until we’re done.”

Jean set off down along the treeline with Vaea in the lead. They stuck to the shadows at the treeline to avoid being spotted by the guards around the resort’s perimeter. It helped that Barnes apparently had no knowledge that Reiner now had a cult of Islanders.

They came to the concrete dome that marked the top of the oubliette. Jean ran towards it, crouching to stay low and out of sight. He knelt beside the iron bars forming the pit's hatch.

“Reiner.” He whispered in a way he hoped would carry to the bottom.

“Jean!” Reiner hissed back.

“Talia found us.” Jean said. Talia waved down at Reiner from beside him. Neither of them could see him in the pit. “She told us about the oubliette. I guess they thought she couldn’t understand Eldian. Based on the terrain I figured out the most likely spots they’d shove you in.”

“Good job, Jean and Talia!”

“How’s life in a hole treating you?” Jean asked.

“Not bad. Boring as hell; lots of time to ponder my mistakes.” Reiner chuckled. “Like how I ended up in a hole.”

“Lagi brought explosives but that’ll alert everyone in the resort. Lagi, put the fucking gunpowder down! I said not yet! Any ideas?”

“Don’t worry about opening the lock. I can do that.”

“How?”

“I’ll explain later. Lower a rope through the service hatch.”

Jean waved Vaea over and he handed Jean a coil of rope, tying the other to a tree by the mouth of the oubliette. Jean tossed the coil down into the pit through the opening he assumed they used as a method of delivering food, water and removing waste. It was too small for a human to crawl through so it didn’t need a door or lock.

The rope shifted back and forth as Reiner climbed. Jean blew out a breath and tapped his fingers on the concrete cap impatiently. “I just realized we could have pulled you up.” He called into the darkness beyond the iron bars.

“It’s okay, I’m almost there.”

Jean blinked; Reiner’s voice was much closer. He’d moved very quickly in a short period of time.

“Get back from the entrance.” Reiner called. “About twenty feet.”

Jean bit back the need to ask him why and caught Talia’s shoulder, urging her to move back until they were in amongst the trees. Vaea had followed them. He turned around, his brow drawn.

Afterward Jean couldn’t precisely describe what he’d seen. It was so bizarrely anticlimactic and yet miraculous.

The hatch leading into the oubliette seemed to jump in its socket, then flip upwards and slide off the top, all in complete silence. The only sign that anything at all had happened was a cloud of dust around the entrance and Reiner climbing out through the hole he’d made.

“Huh.” Jean said and waved.

Reiner ran over to him. “Thanks.”

“We go to meet up spot now.” Jean waved towards the base of the rocky outcropping where he’d left the other acolytes. “That’s new.” Jean continued as they ran together in the humid night.

“Yeah.” Reiner said. “I can do more precise stuff now.”

“Did you transform?”

“Sort of. I called down hands to pop out the door, smother the sound and then disappear so quickly you can't see them.”

Jean nodded. “That’s actually incredibly useful.”

“There’s a trade off though.”

“What’s that? Wait. Hold that thought.” Jean held up his hand; they were nearing the other acolytes assembled at the base of the outcropping. “We’re going to get Reiner out now.” Jean said to them in a whisper. “Lets go.”

The group moved forward in a quiet mass. Jean kept them close to the trees to break up their silhouettes; as they started to near the dock he heard them muttering amongst themselves and turned. They pulled out butterfly knives and flicked them open.

“Wait.” Jean shook his head at them. “Aside from the threats to Alliance town, Reiner’s tactical engagement with the Queen and, you know, him ending up in an oubliette, the Pirates have not been particularly odious and I want to avoid starting a war with them. So put the knives away.” Jean waved at the blades. Almost as one the Islanders flicked their knives closed and pocketed them. Lagi brought out a short staff from his canvas kit and jerked it towards Jean. Jean nodded. “Okay that’s better. Still, try not to kill them. We’ll do what we planned and save beating them with sticks until we have no choice, okay?”

Lagi nodded to Jean and turned towards the others, lifting the staff. Within seconds they were all armed with lengths of wood. Jean nodded and they all crept the last few yards to their last checkpoint before storming the docks.

Reiner frowned and whispered. “They listen to you.”

“Yes, that’s because I’m extremely charismatic. You’re like Eren, you both can fake having charisma but you, yourselves, have none. I don’t even know how you do it. It’s like faking being smarter than you are.” Jean hesitated, frowning in thought. “Now that’s an incomprehensible ability, if ever there was one.”

“The pirates have guns, Jean.” Reiner pointed out.

“We have a plan. There are five guards. We have ten acolytes plus you and me.” Jean said. "We're going to the dock."

“The dock?”

“Yeah, we have a boat.” Jean smiled. “You didn’t think I’d spring you without a getaway plan? Alright.” Jean hesitated. There was just one small bit of foliage between them and the dock, he peered through it at the guards chatting by the entrance. He singled Lagi and his group forward with a flick of his fingers.

Lagi and a half dozen of the male acolytes melted into the forest. Jean waited, still amazed at how silently they could move in the jungle. They popped out of the underbrush a hundred yards distant like phantoms and rushed towards the now startled guards, then stopped abruptly and raised their arms as one and began to wave them in time and chant. The guards watched, baffled, their hands on their side arms.

“What are they doing?” Reiner whispered to Jean.

“Distracting them.” Jean pulled his hood down. “Let’s go.” He jumped out of the foliage into a flat sprint towards the docks. He hit the wood planking at speed, his footsteps thudding through the hollow structure.

The guards started to shout. Jean chanced a look back and saw them turning to run towards the dock. The acolytes stopped their chanting and pulled out their short staffs; within seconds it had turned into pandemonium, sticks flying in every direction. The acolytes were close enough to reduce the range advantage of the guard’s guns; all of them got their customized Mausers knocked out of their hands by a rain of rapid wooden smacks before one of them could get a shot off. The Guards had to resort to their fists and bludgeons to fight back.

Jean neared the end of the dock where two acolytes in a rowboat were waiting for them and stopped, waving the rest of his posse—Talia, Vaea and Reiner—on.

Reiner hesitated before stepping into the rowboat.

“Get in!” Jean pushed on Reiner’s back.

He looked out over the dark water. “I’m going to start hallucinating again.” 

Talia took that opportunity to step past them and settle herself down in the rowboat, followed quickly by Vaea.

Jean followed him, catching his balance as the rowboat dipped under his weight. Reiner finally overcame his hesitation, stepping in and the acolytes manning the oars used them to leaver away from the dock.

“What happens to them?” Reiner asked, nodding at the fracas on the shore.

“Once we’re clear they’ll scatter and find their way to the other pick up point.” Jean explained.

The acolytes rowed with steady focus and within minutes they were hundreds of yards out and beyond the Sammezzano’s stretch of beach. Jean glanced between the rowers and Talia who was pealing the foil wrapper off the top of a lemon-yellow liquor bottle. “Reiner, I’ve been meaning to ask. Why does Talia have a bottle of limoncello? She’s been carrying it this entire time.”

Reiner took the bottle when Talia handed it to him and grinned, “Because it’s delicious.”

—

The psychiatrist sat down beside Brandeis on the wood bench in front of Brandeis' tent. “I would say she’s doing significantly better. Particularly compared to how you described her when she first came to you. The stomach upset is gone, she’s sleeping more soundly, the nervous tremor, the confusion and stupor, all gone. She’s even more talkative now than when I first started treating her. I would say she can resume her duties.”

“That’s good. ”

“You two were the same rank a couple weeks ago, before you received this abrupt promotion right? Seems to me that whatever is inappropriate about your relationship is more a case of bad timing than anything. Particularly since she seems to have had her eye on you for awhile.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Brandeis rubbed his eyes, his stomach sinking.

“She expressed concern that you were beating yourself up about the situation. So I just wanted to tell you that in my professional opinion, there are some mitigating factors. Certainly this isn’t the best time or place for it and you will need to move her out from under your command as soon as you can. But you can’t argue wth results.”The psychiatrist patted Brandeis’ knee. “She must have gotten the right medicine.”

Brandeis blinked. “Huh?”

The psychiatrist stood, “I’ll start making my way back to casualty clearing. Good luck.”

“Thank you.” Brandeis said.

The other man tipped his cap and headed towards the bridge to cross the river to the stables.

“The right medicine.” Brandeis repeated as he stood and re-entered his tent, walking past his desk and closing the flap between his living and working areas. Mikasa sat on her cot, writing in the note book he’d given her to journal her thoughts. She looked up when she heard his step and smiled one of her shy, happy smiles.

Brandeis smiled back hesitantly. “He says you’re cleared for duty.”

She nodded and looked pensive. “I have to leave your tent?”

“You want to return to Historia’s side right?”

She looked down at the ground, closing her notebook. “I want to stay with you.”

Brandeis sat down beside her. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea to continue this.” He could feel her tense beside him and he looked over; her face had gone stoney. He swallowed and plowed ahead. “Setting aside the ethical issues… You’re really young. You’re younger than I was when I got married. Hilde and our kid happened so fast and just as fast it was taken from me. I’ve spent a long time fucking around because I was angry and scared. But I’m at a place where making a family makes sense again. You’re a kid, you’re probably years from wanting to settle down. And then there’s the even bigger issue of ghost boyfriend.” He stopped. He looked at her. She was listening at least, even if she wasn’t looking at him. “Is there a chance he’s going to live? Or that you’ll be able to be with him somehow?”

She didn’t respond for a long time, then nodded. 

“Okay.” Brandeis sighed. “So let’s say you do, then what happens?”

Mikasa went silent. 

“You leave me for him, right?”

She cried silently, unable to meet his eye.

Brandeis coughed to get the pain out of his throat. “I’m glad I could help you feel better. But… If you still have feelings for ghost boyfriend, you need to figure that out first. I won’t get in the way.”

She slipped her arms around his chest and laid her head against his shoulder. He patted her hand.

“The thought of you leaving already hurts, Mikasa. It’ll just get worse for both of us if we continue like this.”

—

“Lagi! Get me some rope! We need to lash him to something or he might go overboard! Vaea, help me restrain him.” Jean set his shoulder against Reiner’s forward lunge, thanking God that he was now both taller and heavier than Reiner. Reiner fought his hold but luckily in a disordered and confused way; if he’d had his wits about him Jean was quite sure he’d have found himself face first on the deck.

This time Reiner’s madness had come on fast and instead of simply falling into a restless, nightmare ridden sleep like before on the Pirate’s corvette, the man had gone flatly nuts in a violently physical way. He’d dashed out of the Captain’s cabin and down the deck before Jean could stop him. Jean only able to catch Reiner just as he got to the stern’s rail and looked about fit to throw himself off of the boat.As if sensing Reiner’s chaotic state of mind, the winds had decided to kick up a squall, sending the clipper rocking hideously and waves spurting over the deck.

Jean felt another body move in to help him. It was Vaea. Jean relaxed a hair, relieved.

As if to punish him, the deck heaved under them and they slid stumbling towards the taffrail. “Fuck, stop!” Jean tried to plant himself and nearly fell over. Vaea kept his feet and despite being a head shorter than Jean, managed to stop their skid towards the stern through sheer brute force.

A sheet of stinging ocean water slapped Jean in the face. Jean spat out the salt taste, his nostrils stinging, unable to open his eyes. He was blind, gasping and hardly able to find purchase the slippery deck. And Reiner was still struggling against them both, still shouting gibberish about the Æsir and Vanir, the Ocean’s Great hall and Vanaheimr. More unsettling was when he started to speak in a language Jean could not place since it sounded nothing like Ashanti, Hizuru, the Pirate’s patois or the Islander’s tongue.

Reiner shoved them again and Jean slid, feeling his heel hit the taffrail. Reiner kept pushing forward—just as the boat heaved—and Jean felt a moment of terrifying weightlessness as he realized he’d left the deck.

It felt like a rock hit his chest; the weightlessness stopped and he felt himself wrenched back. He risked the stinging salt and opened his eyes.

Lagi had grabbed his coat and was hauling him hand over fist back over the taffrail with several other of the acolytes. Reiner was still in Vaea’s arms but he was sat down on the deck and Ronal, stabilized by Talia, sat with him, her hands on the sides of his face. Under Ronal’s touch Reiner had quieted down.

Lagi gave a final heave, and Jean tumbled onto the deck in a heap. Lagi waved one of the other acolytes over; the man was carrying a coil of rope over his shoulder. In silence the acolytes pulled Reiner over to mizzenmast and tied him down, Ronal not leaving his side or letting go of his hand.

When Reiner was safely lashed, the ocean settled. Jean chewed on that for awhile and decided it must have been a coincidence and a freak occurrence, then he decided he was merely mistaken and the squall must have been settling well before. When the sky was clear and the moon high, Jean took out a lantern and sat by Reiner, his journal in his hand and tried to write down as much as he could of Reiner’s babble. Ronal sat beside him, rocking and chanting to herself, as she slowly threaded a beaded chain through her fingers.

Sitting beside Ronal Jean ached from the strain of keeping Reiner from throwing himself in the ocean and quietly fought his horror at Reiner’s sudden degeneration into complete insanity. As the night dragged on Ronal's chanting began to unwind the thoughts in his head and Jean started to feel a surreal calm. The same calm he'd felt when he'd sat on a skiff with the pirates and Reiner and a horse he’d charmed into preternatural tameness. 

—

“We let Stein commit to breaking the Alliance’s defence and then my Army will come in and finish him off.” Kettler tapped the map of Norden Valley on his desk in his cabin. He was half naked from the waist up, wearing only the khaki trousers of the Yalkell Army, his brown suspenders hanging off his hips. “My hammer to the Alliance’s anvil.”

Historia slipped her hands around his waist; she felt him tense as she let her fingers slip under his belt. He turned around in her arms, interrupting her exploration, and lifted her onto the desk, kissing her as he finished unbuckling his pants. She was already naked and when she’d walked through the front door she’d almost felt about to take flight from the excitement of having such an uncomplicated outlet.

Kettler pressed his hand to the small of her back and rocked into her. Historia gasped and this time let him do the work. As she expected, he was solid and competent; it took what felt like a blink of an eye, for her to be rolling through an extremely efficient peak. He seemed content to help her enjoy herself without seeking anything for himself. 

Historia caught her breath, kissing his neck and then growled softly in his ear. “And if we’re not able to complete the defence, you intend to stay out of it.” 

Kettler stroked her hair from her face. “If I’m going to risk my troops I’m only interested in a sure thing. I’m not having you get routed and then having that pack of feral dogs turn on us. If I’m going to make an enemy of Stein I want to make damn sure he’s a dead enemy. That’s what I’m willing to offer. Anything more and you have to sweeten the deal.”

“It’s not sweet enough already?” Historia asked, rocking her hips.

Kettler laughed. “No.” He caught her chin. “You’re still very popular with the people because of your policies and your courage at Norden. And you are certainly popular with the Yeagerists because of your sacrifice for the Island. But the court sees you as paper tiger. If you want me to invest my men to that degree, I’m going to need you to have my back in Mitras. You’ll have to retake your throne.”

“I never abdicated it.”

“Not officially, no. But you decided to go into on and off again exile for seven years. You allowed a bunch of opportunists to get sucked into the void you left." He stilled. "Do you think you're responsible for what they’ve done while you’ve chosen to farm cattle?”

Historia went silent.

Kettler kissed her neck and continued. “The way the Steward behaves… It’s well beyond the usual aristocratic arrogance. The Steward and his council are snickering at us behind their hands. Like a bunch of con artists with insider knowledge. I don’t like it.”

“What are you suggesting?” Historia slipped her hands around his chest, her brow drawn.

“What I said in the beginning. A political alliance. Marry me. We’ll go to Mitras and announce a formal engagement. Then I’ll give you my word that we’ll engage Stein with or without your defences complete.”

“If I leave Norden Valley what assurance do I have that you won’t just attack us?”

Kettler snorted against her throat. “What you’re asking is… do I have a secret deal with the Steward? Yes, I do. If I get you out of here, the Steward has pledged Mitras’ aid if Yalkell or Hermina are attacked by Engels or Stein or whatever’s going on in the south.”

“But you’ve already said the Mitras’ Garrison is useless—“

“Yes.” Kettler laughed outright. “Why do you think I’m here… _talking_ with you? Your muscle is superior. The only drawback is that it’s controversial but you truly can’t tell they’re Marleyan when they’re marching under your banner. When I saw that, I realized I had a better option.”

“What does announcing a formal engagement do?”

“Starts to rebuild your credibility. You need a gesture that indicates you’re ready to play politics. It shows you’ve chosen what you consider to be a winner among the Yeagerists, which gives a plausible excuse for having disappeared for years in order to wait for a winner to emerge. The court is terrified of us Yeagerists, so they might talk shit, but they'll understand the logic on the level of cowardice. It also shows you have a base of support outside of the capitol. Other than the social project you’re patroning.”

Historia glared. “Alliance town is more than just a social project.“

Kettler hummed in his throat and dipped down to nibble on her bare breast.

“Stop distracting me.” Historia hesitated when he did as instructed. “Wait no, don’t stop, but explain yourself.”

“Of course Alliance town is more than just a social project. But think of it as a hidden weapon, you still need one you carry openly or you’ll just end up in more fights than you can handle. Thus the engagement.”

Historia leaned back on the heels of her hands on Kettler’s desk, getting a bit of distance between them.

He blinked at her. “What’s wrong? You don’t seem to mind my company. And I told you. You can keep your Marleyan.”

Historia closed her eyes. “He’s not mine to keep.”

“Then what’s the problem? Be practical. You can continue to not have him every bit as much engaged to me. And who knows? Maybe it’ll light a fire under his ass if he realizes you’re not waiting for him at a ranch in the middle of nowhere with no other options.” 

Historia frowned. “Why do you trust me?”

Kettler brushed her hair from her neck, then he slipped his hands around her waist, pulling her close. “I know what you want. As long as I don’t get in between you and the things you care about, I’m fine.”

“And what do you want?”

“To make sure Yalkell doesn’t become another Stohess or Chlorba. Simple as that. And to be quite honest to that end I’d much rather have you on the throne than the Steward. Go to Mitras, Historia. Paradis needs its Queen. Let me be your stepping stone back to the throne.”

Historia sighed and leaned forward, allowing Kettler to hold her again. “I’ll agree to your plan… if Stein ends up here before we finish our defences. Otherwise we stick with the original.”

—

Jean propped his head on his forearms overtop the Trident’s gunwale as he watched the desolate waste of Marley’s north western shore slide past. Thiébaut watched with him, in silence. He’d decided to observe their approach to Alliance Town’s forward base, Marley One. It was a small compound, about a dozen buildings made of cinderblock and rebar—very familiar to him as he used it to launch his survey missions into the main continent. They’d managed to cultivate a few gardens by bringing in good soil from the Island and there were several green houses made of patchwork glass on the side of the compound furthest from the rocky shore.

Jean turned to watch Lagi—apparently the ship’s Captain—give orders to his men to raise a white flag as they neared the compound. Then he joined Jean and Thiébaut at the railing.

“The Pirates know this place.” Lagi said.

Jean started. “Lagi. You speak Eldian?"

Lagi glared at him. "Yes." He leaned close. "But why would I want to use your cannibal language?"

"Wait, what?" Jean looked between Lagi and Thiébaut. "I'm not a cannibal." He waved his hands at Thiébaut. "He’s the cannibal. We're not all cannibals just because we speak the same language." Jean hesitated. "Or is that a slur on us turning into titans."

Lagi didn’t answer. “There are only a few places you’d go, they’ll look here.”

Jean stood up, leaning on the gunwale on his palms. “Actually. I wonder why they haven’t attacked the compound already.”

Thiébaut shrugged. “Is there anything here worth having? From the information the acolytes have gathered, it sounds like the Pirates are not interested in impeding your progress. They’re actually banking on it; they just want a piece of it for themselves.”

Jean sighed. “I guess that’s better than everyone else we’re dealing with.”

“On the whole you were treated pretty well.” Lagi pointed out.

“Except for not letting us leave.” Jean groused.

“You’re valuable. He’s very valuable.” Lagi tilted his head toward Reiner. Reiner’d finally made an appearance; he’d emerged from the Captain’s cabin and was walking towards them. The crew had eventually untied him from the mast and escorted him back into the cabin after he started to remember his name and respond sensibly to simple questions. He’d promptly fell asleep and Jean had spent most of the night at his side, awake, feeling a deep helpless fear.

As boat neared the compound--getting close enough to start making an approach on the dock--Lagi walked over to the acolytes working the sails—barking commands at them to turn the Trident towards shore. 

“Feeling better?” Jean asked Reiner.

Reiner nodded. He stood between Jean and Thiébaut, looking at Marley One. “It’s a relief to see the forward base.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Jean nodded back. “Actually it’s a relief to see land.”

Reiner sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s getting worse.”

Jean frowned. “No shit.” 

They watched the boat glide beside the dock; one of the acolytes threw heaving lines to the waiting dockhands and they hauled in the heavy hawsers to moor the Trident.

The Forward Base’s commander—a Marleyan Army Engineer Major Jean had worked with to launch his exploration missions—was waiting for them at the foot of the dock. He offered a Marleyan salute as soon as he saw Reiner step onto the dock and held it, watching them near.

Reiner returned the Marleyan salute; Jean gave a Scout salute. No one even blinked anymore at the difference; Jean had noticed this Major would give him a scout salute if he was the ranking officer.

“I’m glad you’re safe, sir.” The Major said. “We were told about the abduction. I didn’t expect you’d come back on a clipper with a crew of Islanders.”

“Long story. It’s good to be back.” Jean walked past the Major towards the telegraph station—one of the cinderblock buildings along the single main dirt road. “We need to get a message to Alliance town.”

Reiner trailed him, still subdued and dazed by his trip on the ocean.

“We’ve finished the upgrades to the station. It now has a proper telephone.” The Major explained as he walked along with them.

“Huh.” Jean said. “That’s convenient.” He opened the door to the station. It was a single room and one window; he noticed the addition of the giant wood and brass telephone, mounted on the wall and walked over to it.

“Just lift the transmitter.” The Major said helpfully. “There’s no switching; it goes directly to the Transmissions room at the Great Hall. All you have to do is lift the transmitter and wait until they pick up.”

“Okay thanks.” Jean pulled a chair out from the under the single wood desk for Reiner and pressed him to sit down. “Um. Dismissed.”

“Yessir.” The Major saluted and exited the station, closing the door behind him.

Jean lifted the transmitter from the cradle and waited until he heard a voice on the other line, “This is the Alliance town Transmissions room.” Armin’s Aide’s voice was tinny but clear.

“This is Wings Six. Double Six and Wings Six are now safely in Marley One. Over.”

Reiner caught the transmitter and put his hand over it. “It’s a telephone Jean, you don’t have to treat it like a radio and use call signs. Just talk like a conversation.” He lifted his hand. “Hi Mark, we’re alive. Make sure everyone knows. Can I talk to Armin?”

“Armin’s indisposed until later in the day. Zeke’s available immediately.”

“Huh.” Reiner tapped his fingers on the top of the telephone box. “Get Zeke then.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Jean looked at Reiner, “What? Zeke?”

Reiner shrugged.

“You don’t seem very surprised.”

“I left Armin in the lurch. Considering Annie’s about to give birth any day now, I imagine he needed backup.”

“So we’re trusting him?”

“We always were to a degree. Do you think iron bars and house arrest can stop a man who planed a Coup on two governments simultaneously—one remotely—while being under the observation of an authoritarian regime?”

Jean went quiet for a moment. “I suppose Levi would kill him if he stepped out of line.”

“There’s that too.”

“Hello.” Zeke drew out the vowels in an amused drawl.

“Oh, hi Zeke. I need some help.” Reiner responded.

“Ah, the prodigal son returns.”

Reiner smiled. “Prodigal son? You’re too old to be my father.”

“Young. I’m too young, Reiner.” Zeke chuckled. “You’re not shocked I’m the one answering? I’m disappointed.”

“I figured it was only a matter of time before you either attempted to seize control or Armin decided to trust you. Anyway, we were captured by pirates.”

“Pirates? How droll.”

“Apparently they have infiltrators in Alliance Town. I left to make sure you all didn’t get hurt. You wouldn’t know anything about that would you?” Reiner asked lightly.

“If I did would you hold it against me?”

Jean frowned at Reiner, suddenly feeling shut out of some conversational subtext. He glanced between Reiner and the telephone receiver. _What are they playing at?_

“No. Just make sure you’re not overplaying your hand. So funny story. I made a bet with the Pirates. I bet their fleet against Alliance town—“

“You what?” Jean grabbed the transmitter out of Reiner’s hand. “Who gave you the authority to do that? Armin is going to kill you!”

“Not so loud.” Reiner raised his hand to hush Jean, ducking close to listen to the speaker.

“What were the terms?” There was laughter in Zeke’s voice. Jean was about fit to punch them both.

“I have to convince Karl Stein to work with us.”

“The Butcher of Stohess? The man who tortures people for calling anyone off the island a human being?” Jean snapped.

Reiner frowned. “Jean, the Pirates already are in position to damage Alliance town. At least this way I don’t have to sell out the Hizuru to get them to fuck off. If I can do it. And if I can’t then we get more time to smoke out the infiltrators. It’s a… lose-draw-draw situation now. Which is better than just losing.”

“Pirates do like an audacious wager.” Zeke observed. “Although this might be harder than you think.”

“Harder?” Jean squeaked. “How much harder can it get?”

“That’s what she—“

Jean slapped his hand over Reiner’s mouth, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t. You. Dare.”

Zeke spoke again. “Historia declared war.”

Reiner pushed Jean’s hand away. “What? Why?”

“Because the Mitras Envoy insulted you.”

Reiner hesitated. “What.”

“She said that if you died she’d raise Mitras to the ground.”

Reiner rubbed his eyes. “That’s her own capitol.”

“She’s quite passionate about you. I’m jealous. Your honeymoon must have been a thrill ride.”

“Zeke.” Reiner’s voice held a warning note.

“She declared war because Mitras wanted Alliance town to hand you over or _they’d_ declare war. It was a pre-emptive strike. It hasn’t been ratified yet by Mitras. So everyone’s camped out in Norden Valley eyeing each other. The Canties, the Mitras Garrison and Kettler’s army. Stein’s army is out there somewhere floating but interested. Probably killing people around Nedley.”

“So he’s around Nedley?”

“How am I supposed to know?”

“Use your contacts.”

“What contacts?” Zeke snorted. “You over-estimate me.”

“Don’t play games.” Reiner frowned. “Or did Armin make a mistake putting his trust in you?”

“Oh so you don’t think I seized control?”

“Away from Armin. No.”

Zeke sighed. “I’ll send Mark to get my black book. Mark!” Zeke’s voice became distant. Jean heard the hum of indistinct words but couldn’t make anything out. Zeke returned. “Armin had the brilliant idea to pretend we got you back. I spoke with the Mitras Envoy. The one who threatened war if we didn’t hand you over. I don’t think he’s actually interested in you. Maybe he was initially but not now.”

Reiner leaned towards the receiver. “One thing that occurred to me when I was talking to the Pirates… would giving me to a Yeagerist faction really end their enmity or just become another reason to fight?”

“Hmm. Good point. So you think they want this war?”

Jean waved for the receiver and Reiner held it closer to him. “The Yeagerists fighting each other has always somewhat served Mitras’ interests as long as they could fob the mess on us. But as far as I know they’ve never gotten involved.” 

“Well it’s also quieted down hasn’t it? It’s started to form a stable balance of power between the factions.” Reiner said. “I don’t see how starting a war with Alliance town makes sense if they want to get the Yeagerists warring again.”

“Well Mitras hasn’t, have they?” Zeke pointed out. “They’re still sitting and waiting. Meanwhile we complete our defences in Norden Valley.”

Jean thought through everything. “Mitras’ interests could equally be served by making an accord with one of the Yeagerists. Kettler seems the most stable.”

“Oh hi Mark. Thanks.” Zeke’s voice was briefly muted, then returned full volume. “Hm. According to my sources that are keeping track of our belligerents… Karl Stein is in Mitras.”

“Send a fast ship with everything you have on him to Marley One.” Reiner hesitated. “I need to get into Mitras. Can you make that happen Zeke?”

“Of course not.” He went quiet for a few moments. “Can you be at the gate in five days?”

Jean shook his head. “Shouldn’t our top priority be getting back to Alliance town?“

“I got everything in hand.” Zeke said.

“Zeke, I don’t…” Jean sighed. “Armin’s probably overwhelmed without us.”

“Hitch is in Mitras.” Zeke said.

Jean stood straighter. “What? Why?”

“She infiltrated Mitras in order to gather intelligence on their movements. She went with Pieck and Levi who are serving as our Envoys. Armin uncovered infiltrators from Mitras and she was able to use one of them as cover. Lots has happened.”

“Is she in danger?” Jean asked.

“I couldn’t tell you.” Zeke replied. “But my sources say that there are some serious bad vibes coming out of Mitras.”

Jean rubbed his forehead, grimacing. “Mitras it is.”

—

Annie sat on her couch under the blanket Hitch had knitted for her. She’d just woken from a nap and another nightmare about the Wallist children she’d killed in Stohess. This time it thankfully hadn’t resulted in another episode, but she still felt the echo of revulsion towards herself. It tightened in her fingers and palms, where she’d felt the smashed bodies most clearly.

She tried wiping her hands on the couch fabric, hoping the feeling would ease that awful sensation and when it didn’t she fisted her hands as tight as she could until the pain overwhelmed it.

She heard a knock at the door and turned towards it. “I’m up!”

The door opened and one of her guards stepped halfway in. “Your father is here with his wife.”

Annie nodded and the guard disappeared, replaced by Brock. He waved at Annie. Karina trailed after him, a basket in her hands.

“Is there anything you need?” Brock asked as he sat down beside Annie on the couch. “I thought we could play a game together, if you like.”

“Sure. What?” Annie glanced between him and Karina, who was standing awkwardly by the couch back with a large wicker basket in her hands. “Do you want to set that down?” Annie pointed to the coffee table.

Karina nodded. “I brought food.” She put the basket down and opened it. “I made some sweet fry bread. The way we used to make it in Liberio.” She pulled out a ceramic container and sat down beside Brock. She pulled off the lid and offered it to Annie; Inside was deep fried flat bread covered in sugar and cinnamon, the smell wafting off reminded Annie of the times she’d sat in a warm Stohess bakery on winter days, eating custard donuts with Hitch. Annie took a piece and a bite. It was deliciously fluffy. She closed her eyes and groaned in appreciation. For all her flaws Karina was a very good cook.

“I kept our old backgammon set from Liberio.” Brock pulled it out of his coat pocket and opened the hinged wooden box, laying it out on the table and setting up the pieces.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” Annie felt a surge of warmth at that. It was one of the few things she and Brock had shared that hadn’t been training. On days that he’d been particularly impressed with her efforts, he’d sat her down by the fire with a bowl of stew and a mug of black tea and they’d played backgammon together until bedtime.

Annie leaned forward as far as she could to start helping Brock set up the backgammon. She felt Karina’s hand on her stomach and suppressed a flinch. Annie still wasn’t used to being randomly touched by people because she was pregnant. It was one of her least favourite things about being pregnant.

“You look like you’re almost due.” Karina said. “Is everything okay?”

Annie glanced at her. “The doctor says we’re both healthy.”

“And they know that there won’t be complications… because he’s an Islander?”

“Karina!” Brock snapped. “Of course there won’t be complications _because_ of that. You’ll make her nervous for no reason. ” Brock picked up Annie’s hand. “You were half Marleyan and you were fine. You and Armin are both Eldian, there’s nothing different about the Island Eldians.” He watched Karina as he said it. “Their child will be fine.”

Karina sighed looking frustrated. “That’s not what I meant to say. I was just… worried.”

“Why don’t you start heating up supper?” Brock suggested, tilting his head at Karina’s basket.

“You’re right.” She stood and picked the basket off the coffee table and walked towards the kitchen. “It’ll be about fifteen minutes!”

After she’d gone, Brock shook his head. “She means well, you know. She’s concerned. She just expresses it in the worst way possible sometimes.”

Annie rubbed her stomach. “I know Squid will be perfect. It’s not her I’m worried about.”

Brock’s hands stilled in the middle of setting up the board. “You’re worried about yourself?”

“I didn’t have a mother.” Annie said. “There’s no reason for Armin not to be able to have children except that he chose me. I don’t want to make him regret choosing me. But… I’m scared. I have nightmares about killing kids. I’m terrified I’m going to be a danger to Squid.”

For a long time Brock said nothing. “You know I started to regret what I did with you almost immediately. If you withdraw your child from the program, you’re put under suspicion. And they were already suspicious of me because I adopted you in the first place. That was my excuse and there isn’t a day I don’t regret just facing the consequences to get you out of there. You should never have been forced into this.” He closed his eyes, fisting his hands. “I don’t know how to make it better for you now. I’d do anything to go back and give you a normal life.” He grabbed her shoulders, pulling her into a hug. “You have so much to be angry at me for. But what you did instead is give me a grandkid. Which I don’t deserve, but I’ll make damn sure she gets a normal life from me. I promise.” He resumed setting up the backgammon game. “We’ll play backgammon every evening. I’ll turn her into the best backgammon player on the Island.”

Annie wiped her eyes and laughed. She took another bite of Karina’s fry bread. “This is really good.”

“Yeah, isn’t it. It’s the only reason I married her.” Brock grinned.

“I heard that!” Karina called from the kitchen.

—

“You have no reason not to let me go!” Gabi slammed her hands down on Onyakapon’s desk. “It’s not a war zone, it’s just south Paradis! The Spruce is ready to fly, you can take it to Norden Valley.”

Onyakopon frowned. “We don’t know what’s going on in the South. It could be even more dangerous than Norden Valley.”

Gabi threw her hands up and paced to the office window, staring out at the hanger beyond. The Spruce—a second boat plane propelled by ice burst crystal—was being fuelled by Hizuru engineers for another test flight. She folded her hands over her chest. “You’re just doing this to me because I’m a girl.”

“I’m not. But so what if I was?”

Gabi glanced back, ready to argue the point when Falco touched her arm to quiet her.

“Isn’t that the case for every flight, sir?” Falco offered. “The danger I mean.”

Onyakopon stared at him. “You’re on her side now, huh? I thought you wanted to keep her out of danger.”

“If we don’t find out what’s happening, we could be a lot worse off. I want to keep Gabi safe but not at the expense of the job we need to do, sir.”

“‘Not at the expense of the job we need to do.’” Onyakopon repeated and clucked his tongue at Falco, shaking his head. “How do you manage to be so polite and so impertinent at the same time? Can you believe this, Muller?”

“What?” Muller jerked upwards from his position reclining on the leather chaise lounge at the back of the office, crammed between two filing cabinets. He’d been catching a cat nap between shifts. The newspaper that he’d laid over his face fell into his lap and he rubbed his eyes and gave Onyakopon a thumbs up, “You’re doing great!”

Gabi grinned in amusement.

“That’s not...“ Onyakopon groaned. “Fine, whatever, go back to sleep.” He paused and frowned. “Sir.”

“I told you.” Muller waved him off. “Don’t call me sir until I’ve been knighted by the Queen.” He lay down again with his back to them and rearranged the newspaper over his face. “One day, I’m sure of it.”

Gabi heard footsteps rattling the stair leading to the office and turned. Parval opened the door and entered, then stopped short when he saw Muller.

“Oh look at that.” Parval frowned at Muller. “As usual the airforce is hard at work.”

“We work smart not hard.” Muller replied over his shoulder. “You Grunts wouldn’t understand.”

Parval stomped over and kicked the lounge. “Get up.”

Muller waved him off. “I’m not getting up for you. It’s not my shift yet.”

Onyakopon looked at the clock on the wall. “He’s still got fifteen minutes, Colonel.”

“Are you two fucking kidding me? Fifteen minutes? I have to wait here fifteen minutes watching his backside with my thumb up my ass?”

“Onyakopon is right there Parval, talk to him.” Muller pointed, vexed.

Parval glanced between Onyakopon and Muller in confusion. “Onyakopon has the authority to request flight changes?”

“We can _authorize_ flight changes. Armin delegated that authority to Muller who is sharing it with me, Colonel.” Onyakopon explained.

“That makes sense. So glad he told me.”

Aldini pulled the newspaper off his face. “Did you read your memos or did you just throw them out like you usually do?”

Parval growled deep in his throat. “We can’t delay sending an aerial patrol south any longer. But we can’t compromise air support for Norden Valley. You need to put the Spruce into service.”

“See?” Gabi waved her hands towards Parval. “That’s what I said!”

Onyakopon looked between Parval and Gabi. “Fine. Gabi. Make a flight plan with Falco. And get Connie. I’ll ask the Hizuru for a ship and crew; you’ll be docking off shore."

Gabi frowned. "You just listen to him because he's--"

"A colonel!" Onyakopon snapped. "Also stop fooling around when I send you on missions, you two.” Onyakopon pointed between them. “There’ll be no teen pregnancy on my watch.”

Falco choked, his eyes widening as he turned beat red.

Gabi stared at Falco in confusion, then looked back at Onyakopon. “Huh?”

—

Hitch made no protest when the Mitras MPs bound her hands and shoved her in a carriage except to weep from the pain of having her arm wrenched. The carriage door opened and one of the MPs threw the jacket Stein had pulled from his closet for her into the carriage. It landed beside her. “Don’t need evidence lying around.” The man said.

She reached for it with her good hand and struggled to pull it around her. Now that the fight was over, she was shuddering from the cold and the after-effects of adrenaline. Every movement sent spikes of hot pain into her chest from her shoulder.

They rode with her in silence and she didn’t have to presence of mind to try and pay attention to the turns or changes in inclination. Eventually the carriage stopped and she was muscled out of it and past the grey stone gate of a tower prison—one of the ones left over from centuries ago. They forced her up the long winding stair inside and her world contracted to lifting her legs over and over and trying to set her feet down to avoid sending a shockwave of pain through her shoulder.

At the top of the tower stair was door made of iron bars; her captors opened it and pushed her inside. The top floor of the tower was a single room, cut in half by a wall of iron bars set into the stone of the floor and ceiling. They opened the door to the cell and pushed her inside.

There was a cot along one wall, a bucket and a table with a chipped ceramic basin and a pitcher. There were two chairs in the entire floor, one inside the cage and one outside. She looked around at her prison, then back at her captors. “This isn’t the Mitras Military Jail.”

The man who’d shot Kemlo snorted. He was tall, wiry with black hair and brown eyes that seemed perpetually amused. “Nope.” He moved to leave.

“Who are you?” Hitch called after him.

“You can call me Cleaner.” He glanced back, grinning. “It’s because I clean up for the Steward. I know. Not very imaginative.” He waved as he opened the iron door and walked down the stair, his flunkies filing out after him, except for two, who stood by the door and kept their eye on her.

She sat down on the cot, scooted back painfully until she could prop herself up against the wall and closed her eyes, huddling into Stein’s jacket. It was cold in the cell. Her arm was aching terribly and she realized it must be dislocated or broken since she couldn’t move the joint.

She managed to enter a hot, agonizing half sleep for what seemed like mere moments before she felt a pair of hands on her and roused with a start.

A doctor had pulled back Stein’s jacket and was inspecting her arm. He pressed a flat bit of wood to her lips. “Bite down on this.” She did as told, looking at him with worry. Without any warning, the doctor cracked her arm back into place.

Hitch spat out the wood and screamed; then tumbled forward into complete black. When she woke up again, it was dawn, judging by the grey light coming in through the one small window on the other side of the room from her.

The guards still watched her but now she had a towel on the cot and a bottle of Laudanum with a spoon; her arm was bound in a sling. She picked it up in her uninjured hand and, ignoring the spoon, took a swig directly from the bottle after pulling the cork out with her teeth.

The bitter taste made her gag but it took only a few minutes before the claw digging into her shoulder was releasing its grip. She started to care very little about where she was or what was happening.

Later, she estimated she spent two and a half days in that state, waking only to drink more laudanum.

When she finally ran out and she wasn’t able to slip back into a haze, she realized the pain in her shoulder had receded to a dull ache and she remembered that Kemlo was dead and Stein was most likely dead too.

She cried against the stone wall until she’d wept her insides out and all that was left of her was a numb husk. She huddled deeper in Stein’s jacket and traced nothing on the stone wall with her fingertip. She realized this must have been how Stein had felt when she’d disappeared on him.

They did not bring her another bottle of Laudanum so she was left with the bitter pain of going over her guilt over Kemlo’s death—she couldn’t bear to think about Stein pale and bloody on the ground at all—the events that had lead up to them being assaulted and her imprisonment, trying to figure out if there was any clue to her current situation. She had not expected Mitras to make a move. Kemlo had, however. Why?

On the morning of the third day, they brought Stein in.

She was shocked to see him. She hadn’t even let herself hope or think too deeply about it. “Karl?”

The guards opened the door to the cell and, Stein supported between them, walked him over to the cot, let him drop down on it and left. He lay where they’d left him, looking dizzy and pale. “Hitch.” He said after awhile and started to slowly pull himself up to sitting.

She moved over to him. His head was wrapped in bandages. He wore his dark grey fatigue pants and undershirt. His white shirt was bloody and she could see the outline of bandages across the right side of his chest. “You’re alive.” She said finally and pressed herself carefully to the uninjured half of his chest. She buried her nose in his neck and closed her eyes, breathing his smell in. She was too exhausted and relieved to feel guilt.

“Yeah.” He said, lifting his uninjured arm to stroke her hair. “They patched me up. Said I lost a lot of blood. I feel pretty weak.”

She felt Stein tense and glanced up. He was looking at someone beyond the bars.

Hitch looked back. It was Cleaner. He smiled at her affably, and moved towards the door to their cell, flanked by guards. “Looks like you’re both together now. Good. We can start.” Cleaner spoke in a slow, grinning drawl. “You’re a clever girl, Hitch Dreyse. It took me three days to peal back all the layers of misdirection and realize you weren’t actually a turncoat. You never were on our side. So you have value aside from being his cock sleeve.” He opened the door and waved the guards to go in before him. “Grab him and pin him down; we’re going to have a bit of fun.”

The guards walked to the cot and pulled Stein off of it. Hitch watched for a horrified moment as Stein struggled uselessly against them. Then she lunged to stop them, grabbing Stein and holding on even through the searing pain of her shoulder. One of the guards grabbed her by the neck and shoved her gasping back. When she recovered she was startled by Cleaner, who’d moved silently to kneel by her on the cot.

“Looks like we got to restrain her too.” Cleaner waved a guard towards Hitch. The man knelt on the cot and grabbed Hitch across the chest. The heaviness of his arm and the weight of his chest against her made her stomach sink; she didn’t stand a chance with a busted shoulder.

“You’re very pretty.” Cleaner said, lifting her chin.

She stared at him, wide eyed. “Huh?”

“Don’t touch her.” Stein barked from the floor.

“Oh.” Cleaner glanced back at Stein. “I won’t. I’m just expressing a professional opinion.” He stood and lifted his chin. “Do you see this?” He touched his thumb to the ugly scar running from under one ear to just past his Adams apple on the other side of his neck. “I was working over a young lady like Hitch on behalf of the Steward. And one of my men got it in his head to save her from me.” He glanced at the guard holding Hitch back. “That’s the problem with women. No matter how loyal you think your men are, they start screaming and it scrambles their brains. The effect gets worse if you let them fuck ‘em.” He let Hitch go and stood, walking over to Stein and kneeling beside him. He grabbed his hair and wrenched his head back. He patted Stein’s cheek. “Look at what you’ve done already Hitch. Two groups of men, both of whom hated each last week, now working together because you’re in danger and you matter to both and making a right nuisance of themselves. I respect that power; I recognize it. And that’s why it’s so lucky I got you, boy.” He grabbed Stein’s jaw; Stein flinched away and Cleaner sneered, digging his fingers in. “If I make you scream, it doesn’t give you power, it just makes you contemptible. And I can get to her, through you.”

He stood and propped his boot up on Stein’s shoulder, his arms crossed around his chest, chin propped on one hand as he considered. Stein glared at him sullenly. “Now the Steward has told me that I have to keep him fit for soldiering. Boy’s already marginal what with the concussion and the gunshot so looks like I can’t even get a little punchy. And we don’t have time for anything with a slow burn. Hm. What to do?” He lifted Stein’s chin with the toe of his boot. “You are also pretty. And young. Did you just start shaving last year?”

“Fuck you.”

“Oh.” Cleaner raised his eyebrows, nodding slowly. He returned his boot to Stein’s shoulder. “That’s a thought. Okay Hitch, you got a decision to make.” Cleaner glanced over and grinned at Hitch. “Up front or in back?”

“Huh?”

“How do you want me to fuck your boyfriend?”

Stein lunged against his guard’s hold, managing to get one foot under himself and send Cleaner stumbling back before the guards wrenched his injured arm back harder and forced his face to the stone floor. Hitch heard him sob in pain; fresh blood bloomed on his shirt.

“Stop.” She whispered.

“If you shove your cock in my mouth, I’ll tear it off. You’ll bleed to death before they can sew you shut.” Stein hissed.

“Oh.” Cleaner raised an eyebrow. “In the back then. Hold him still.” He said to the guards. “Make sure he doesn’t rip those stitches any more than he has already.”

Cleaner pulled off his jacket and hat and knelt behind Stein. He folded himself over Stein’s back, hooking his elbow around Stein’s throat. “Don’t worry, boy. I’ve broke plenty of colts like you. I’ll take my time so I don’t tear you to pieces. Who knows? You’ll probably end up liking it, you have that look about you. Or.” He levelled a stare at Hitch, giving her a lopsided sneer of a smile. “You can start giving me names Hitch Dreyse.”

Hitch froze.

“Don’t.” Stein said. “Don’t you dare Hitch.” He grit his teeth and tried to wrench himself out of Cleaner’s hold. “Just don’t watch.”

Hitch stared, unable to comprehend what she was seeing; her thoughts refused to find traction. “Wha…? What’s going on?”

“Cleaner.”

She looked over; a herald stood by the door. If he was at all bothered or even startled by what he was seeing, he didn’t show it. “The Steward has a message for you.”

Cleaner stared at the interruption for what felt like an eon before he finally reacted. “Are you fucking kidding me? Can it not wait?”

The herald shook his head.

Cleaner let go of Stein’s head and sat back. “Can you believe this? Make up your mind, you fat, senile bastard.” He turned to Hitch, shaking his head. “Being jerked around like this is seriously destroying my job satisfaction.” He leaned against Stein again. “When I come back, would you prefer I fuck her instead?”

Stein didn’t respond, instead he growled low in his throat and managed to, once again, lift himself up against the weight of both guards pinning his shoulders.

“Goddammit, stay down!” Cleaner grabbed Stein’s head and slammed it against the stone. Stein closed his eyes, going even paler, his breath shallow and quick.

Hitch wrenched against the guard’s hold. Her shoulder ached. “Stop it!”

“Boy.” Cleaner leaned close to Stein’s ear. “What do you think is going to happen when she watches you get reamed by me? Hm? You think she’s going to respect you for it? Or is she going to be disgusted at your weakness and never see you as a man again? I can take away everything she loves about you. Hell, I can take away everything you love about her.” Cleaner shook his head ruefully, sucking his teeth in disgust. “Humans are despicable creatures.”

“Cleaner.”

“Oh shut it.” He sat back on his haunches and turned to the messenger, his voice not altering from its languid drawl. “The Steward's message can wait.” Cleaner stood, looking between Hitch and Stein. “You got some more time to ponder your options. I’ll be back soon. Be ready.”

As soon as they were gone, Hitch jumped off the cot and ran to Stein, who’d managed to flip himself over and sit upright with his back against the wall.

She pulled off his shirt to look at the wounds. The bullet wound was in his shoulder and he’d strained the stitches enough to rip a few of them. That’s where the fresh blood was seeping from. She balled up his shirt to put pressure on the wound.

“Don’t breathe a word.” Stein said. “Your friends will get you out. But not if you sell them out. He’s already said he can’t do that much to me.”

“Karl, I can’t—“

“Nothing’s happened yet. Dreading it will just make you break faster. Besides he said they need me able to soldier.” Stein winced as he moved his arm. “If that’s the case, I’ll force him to fight me and he’ll have to give up to avoid hurting me more.”

Hitch bit her thumb nail. “Why do they need you to soldier?”

Stein closed his eyes, breathing out hard. “Good.”

“What?”

“You’re thinking again.”

The door to the room creaked opened. Cleaner walked back in.

“That’s what you should try to figure out Hitch okay? Focus on that question.” Stein whispered, his eyes not leaving Cleaner as he neared. 

“Well aren’t you two lucky. Relatively speaking. We’re apparently under a time crunch because of the idiots who nearly killed you, boy. Although I imagine your complete lack of good sense contributed to that. We got to motor to get you to your spot on the stage. Get him out.”

The guards opened the cell door and pulled Stein up from the ground. Hitch protested lifting the balled up, bloody shirt. “His shoulder! He's bleeding again.”

“They’ll fix him back up.” One of the guards assured her as he levered Stein out of the cell.

“So this is how it’s going to work. You and me,” Cleaner grabbed Stein’s neck, pulling him close. “Are going to go break Alliance Town’s defences. She, is going to stay here until we do it or you die trying. And this is the best part,” He grinned and kissed Stein’s temple. “If you breathe a word about why you’re doing it or make any kind of fuss about it, we’re going to kill her. Horribly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In need of a real evil bastard? Cleaner’s your man!
> 
> Also, Historia is proving to be a bit of a chip off the old block. Like father, like daughter. ;) 
> 
> I changed the Aldini/Ardino/Aldino to Muller although I kept his rank as Lieutenant Colonel, not Secretary. I’m so sorry for that confusing mess.
> 
> I may have to skip the Friday update for the 5th of March. We'll see how things go. :)


	19. Butcher of Stohess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reiner begins to try to control his brand new form of insanity. Historia has a plan so cunning you could cut bread with it. Levi makes a discovery about his past and agrees to Pieck's proposal. Stein makes Hitch a promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Attempted suicide, more mentions of rape.

“We’re back in contact with Braun and Kirstein, Douvir.”

Armin nodded. Mark, his Aide, was standing in his apartment foyer, having been let in by Armin's guards.

Mark continued. “Zeke is currently dealing with the situation.”

Armin closed his eyes and breathed out. “Are they okay?”

“As far as we know, they’re fine. They’re in Marley One.”

“Thanks for the heads up.” Armin nodded to Mark. His Aide nodded back and turned to leave.

Armin went back through his foyer to his living area. Annie was watering some of the herbs she’d grown in a windowsill garden under the arched windows. She was draped in the blanket Hitch had made for her. She hadn’t let it out of her sight since Hitch had left for Mitras.

“Reiner and Jean are back.” Armin said.

Annie’s shoulder’s slumped; she sighed. “That’s a relief.”

He walked up to her and held her from behind, resting his cheek against her crown. He closed his eyes and felt her relax against him. “We got them back.”Armin said, pressing his lips against her temple.

“Yeah.” Annie breathed out hard. “Now we just have to get Hitch and the others back.”

Armin held her, rocking gently her while he watched people bustling along Main Street. A teacher leading a small troupe of kids on an excursion; shop keepers lingering outside their stores to keep an eye on the wares—fruit, books, clothing—that they’d set up on stalls outside on the street; housewives in long skirts and frock coats looking through the offerings. Although they went about their business as they always had, he watched some them stop periodically and gaze out at the horizon. A habit leftover from the Rumbling, made worse by the recent turmoil. 

“Do you want to talk to Reiner?” Armin asked. “We’ll just say ‘hi’, no business.” Armin said quickly. “I’m sure he’d appreciate hearing from you.”

“Yes.” She turned to look at him, placing her hand over his.

They stayed like that a moment more, then Armin released her, caught her hand and they walked towards the door.

They walked together from the residential wing of the Great House to the offices, crossing past the foyer on the mezzanine level, trailed by their guards. Armin waved at Zeke who sat eating a sandwich at one of the tables the Cafe girls had set up for lunch. Zeke tapped ash off his smoke and gave Armin a two finger salute back. His ever present companion Yelena the ficus sat in the chair beside him. Armin shook his head. “That’s just getting weirder and weirder.”

Annie squeezed his hand. “I think it’s harmless.”

Armin opened the door to his office, ushering her inside and closing it behind her. He stepped over to his telephone and lifted the receiver. It was a direct line to the switching station in the Great House. “Hello, can you patch me in to Marley One.”

Armin stroked his thumb against Annie’s wrist as they waited. Annie leaned against the desk to take the weight off of her feet. After a few minutes the line crackled and a familiar voice came on. Reiner. “Hi Armin.”

Armin closed his eyes. Something he hadn’t realized had been knotted tight unwound inside him. He sniffed and rubbed his nose as he responded. “Hi, Reiner.”

Annie leaned close to the receiver so she could share it with Armin. “Hey idiot.”

“Hey Annie.”

“Don’t run off like that again.” Annie said.

“Sorry for leaving you. How are you two doing?” Reiner’s voice got coarser.

Armin pressed his thumb against his lips, closing his eyes. _He’s worried about **us.**_

“We’ve managed. Zeke has helped a lot.” Armin replied.

“That’s good. Don’t worry too much about having to trust him. I’m pretty sure he’s on the level.” Reiner asked. “How are you holding up Annie?”

Annie snorted. “Armin is insisting on reading these boring books to Squid. I swear if I hear another story about a fucking mouse or rabbit or a hamster I’m going to kill something.”

“I better get back then.” Reiner said and Armin was relieved that the coarseness was gone in his voice, replaced by a bit of levity. “So you have something to kill.”

“Yeah.” Annie smiled, her eyes hidden behind her hand. Armin rubbed her back.

“How’s Squid?” Reiner asked.

“She’s doing good; moving around like crazy, starting to throw off my balance now almost.”

“She’s going to kick like a mule. Like her mom.”

“Karina is helping out.” Annie leaned forward and Armin took the opportunity to circle his hand to her lower back.

“Huh.” Reiner snorted. “Okay that actually worries me more than you trusting Zeke.”

“It’s fine. Brock is with her.” Armin kneaded into Annie’s muscle a little harder and she sighed. He let his hand trail lower and she glanced back, her eyes wide, shaking her head. He snickered softly and kissed her neck.

“No, it’s good. She cooks and Dad and I play games. It’s nice to do something quiet with them.” Annie leaned back against Armin and he moved to stroke her stomach. “How are you doing?” Anne asked.

“I’m okay. Jean’s okay too.”

“Are you two fooling around?” Jean’s voice was faint from distance. “Can’t even get through a phone conversation, huh? I can tell you’re both tremendously concerned about us.”

Armin dropped his hands, sitting up straight. “I don’t know what you’re talking about Jean.”

Annie pressed her hand against her mouth, hiding a laugh behind a cough.

“Right. Well we’re fine. Reiner has acquired a cult. And a boat. It’s a nice boat. The cult is a little stabby though.” Jean continued.

Armin glanced at Annie, shaking his head in confusion. She shrugged back. “I should walk Annie back and get to work. We can talk again in a bit and clarify things.”

“I’ll be here all day.” Reiner replied.

“Yeah. Go ‘walk’ with Annie.” Jean laughed.

Armin hung up the phone. They were alone. “Goddamn Jean.”

“It’s okay.” Annie said. “The guards can take me back.”

She put her arms around his shoulders, kissing him. He relaxed, slid his hand to her neck and opened his mouth to kiss her more deeply. He hummed as they pulled apart. “I can go back.”

“No get to work.”

He kissed her again and then trailed kisses down her jaw and throat, sliding his hand down her back and kneading her backside. “You’re so hot like this, like you’re about to burst open with just the slightest touch.”

“You’re a freak. It’s like you actually want someone to catch us.” Annie slipped her hands around his hips. “And that someone always seems to be Jean.”

Armin shook his head. “He’s like a bloodhound.”

“Alright, I’m going.” Annie kissed his cheek and stepped back.

“You don’t have to go so quickly.” Armin protested, catching her back and kissing her again.

“Later.” She put her hand on his chest. She smiled up at him. “If I go now, you’ll get done quicker and get back to me quicker.”

—

Hitch watched as a guard and a doctor carried Stein between them. Behind them were guards. To her relief Cleaner was nowhere in sight.

“What’s going on?” She asked, getting up and moving to the door of her cell.

One of the guards opened it.

They moved in without answering her and set Stein down on the bed. The guard left to close the door behind them.

Her stomach sank. If anything Stein looked worse than the first time he’d arrived. She pressed her knuckles to her lips, one arm folded over her stomach. “Why’s he back?” She asked.

The doctor ignored her, slipping the ends of his stethoscope into his ears and listening to his heart. He took his pulse as he did so, then touched the back of his hand to Stein’s forehead. Once he was done he finally spoke. “Riding a horse will kill him. He has a fever. Reopening that.” He nodded at the fresh blood seeping through the bandages and clean shirt. “Didn’t help. Getting his head knocked around again also didn’t help. He needs to be left alone for a couple days at least.” The doctor walked over to the table with the basin and started laying out items from his bag. “I’m leaving suspended silver and honey for compresses to draw out the infection, sphagnum bandages in case the bleeding starts again. Apply the compresses every few hours if I'm not here to do it. You’ll have to watch for vomiting, paralysis, seizures, if he has difficulty talking or following a conversation. Use the dice to check for blurred vision.”

He closed his bag shut with a snap and closed the clasp. He looked at Hitch. “Are you prepared to help?”

"Yes of course. Is he going to die?”

“If he keeps losing blood, yes. Try to keep him still as well.” He picked up his bag and moved to the door to the cell.

The Guard got up from the chair on the other side to unlock the door.

The doctor waited. “I told the Steward not to give him to that animal.” He said, watching her behind his shoulder from the corner of his eye as he moved through the door, across the floor and disappeared down the stair.

The keys rattled as the guard relocked the cell.

Hitch got up and rifled through the bottles on the table and noticed a pair of dice on a towel.

They both were deuce side up.

She glanced over the dice as if she hadn’t noticed at all and suppressed any expression, busying herself familiarizing with what the doctor had left and picking out a bottle of laudanum and a spoon.

She returned to the cot.

Stein was awake and had levered himself until he was sitting, propped up against the stone wall. He watched her near, looking exhausted and raw.

Hitch knelt on the bed and knee walked over to him. “Are you in pain?” She lifted the bottle of Laudanum.

He shook his head. “I don’t want it.”

She leaned closer to him, pretending to inspect his bandages. His breathing quickened as she brought her lips to his ear. “My friends will get us out. Don’t do it.”

He didn’t answer for a long moment. “I chose to support the extreme Yeagerist faction. Eren Yeager did not kill human beings, he killed animals who hated us for existing. I could use it and the Yeagerists who believed it to bring order to Stohess and stop the killing.” He closed his eyes. “It was a balancing act. If I let them gain control, then they would go crazy. They’ll kill people to feed their hunger to be right. And they’re so stupid with their fanaticism that they’ll give their imaginary enemies nothing to lose and when you give people nothing to lose they act like it. And Stohess would be murdering itself again.”

Hitch stilled her hands.

“My Council told me I was doing the right thing. I spent almost two years half drunk or stoned just so I could pretend to myself that I believed them. The truth is I should have died trying to save my city. All I can say in my defence is ‘it could have been worse’ but no one ever sees the worse.” His brow drew. “When I look back through it, I only ever had choices between bad and worse. But I can’t see where I chose wrong… where I chose to make things worse. But here I am, a villain. The Butcher of Stohess.” He looked at her finally. “I know Alliance town is mostly refugees and soldiers that never fought Paradis, but your leader is the man responsible for the fall of Shinganshina and starting all of this. Why do you want to protect him?”

Hitch chuckled ruefully. “Protect him? That’s not even the half of it. I almost slept with him.”

Stein grimaced. “Hitch.”

“Well not almost because he wasn’t interested.” She leaned close conspiratorially. “But I was working on that.”

He frowned at her. “I’m trying to be serious here.”

Hitch sighed and settled her hands in her lap. “Maybe it’s because he’s also making a choice between bad and worse. Instead of just pretending to be right.” Hitch rubbed her eyes. “Except he was on the other side.”

Stein went silent for a long time. He traced the contour of one of the stones making up the wall. Hitch watched him; he looked defeated. “Were you responsible for the disappearances of suspected dissidents in Stohess?”

Hitch started. She stared at Stein with sudden suspicion. “Why do you ask?”

He smiled. “So it was you. Good. I knew your routes and schedules. I knew your safe houses and your contacts. Funny how close you were and I never knew it was you.”

“I haven’t been back in Stohess since I left you behind.” Hitch went stared down at her hands, feeling uncomfortably exposed. “Why didn’t you do anything?”

“I did. I kept the Council from finding you.” Stein closed his eyes. "I'm tired of making a choice between bad and worse."

—

Jean leaned up against the wall beside the telephone. He had decided, of all the forms of communication he’d had to master, the telephone was the most civilized and stylish. He quite liked having the auditory space to be able to set up sarcastic observations and offer witty commentary.

Reiner was sitting in front of the machine. They both were waiting to be transferred back to Armin’s office.

“When will you be back?” It was Armin’s first question.

Reiner frowned. “I have to go to Mitras. The Pirates have leverage on us. Don’t worry about it too much; I think it’s contained for now. But they wanted me to sell out the Hizuru. I made a counteroffer and told them I’d convince Stein to work with us and give them their money.”

Jean piped up. “Tell them what you wagered.”

Reiner sighed. “Alliance town itself.”

“You what?” Armin snapped. “Reiner that’s insane!”

“That’s what I told him!” Jean quipped.

“In exchange for their fleet. I had to invest them in the outcome. It’s too bold; it’ll just end up in a draw. But they’ll want to see if I can do it. While they’re watching us they aren’t going to be moving to act and we can find out what they’ve got on us.”

“You’re a liability, you know that?” 

Reiner went silent. After a moment he responded softly. “Yeah, I know.”

Armin sighed. Jean felt the weight of his frustration and his concern in his voice.

“So how are you going to convince Stein?” Armin asked.

“I have to find him first. Zeke says he’s in Mitras. So that’s why we’re going there.” His voice had lost a lot of its strength. He’d started to slump over the receiver, his eyes closed as he rubbed them with greater and greater force.

“Alright I’ve heard enough.” Jean said and made a grab for the receiver. Reiner tried to grab it back but Jean held it out of reach until he gave up with a glare. “Armin, I want to talk to you alone. Go powder your nose, Reiner.”

Reiner didn’t leave. “About what?”

“About you.” Jean said.

Reiner closed his eyes and breathed out hard. Then he shook his head, slapped his hands down on his knees and stood. “Fine.” He walked to the door and opened it, leaving with tremendous physical reluctance.

Jean watched him go, then watched through the window to make sure he’d kept walking down the street. Finally when Reiner was out of sight he returned to the telephone. “Armin, Reiner is insane. You know how he had two personalities? The voices in his head have bred like rabbits, he talks to the ocean and sometimes I swear I see Eren in him. He’s severely depressed then manic. You didn’t tell me the extent of his madness. It’s a little scary. I thought he’d need a shoulder or… you know, possibly a lap. Not an entire psychiatric swat team.” He cradled the receiver close to his face. “I want a promotion after this. Oh that’s right, you can’t give me one because I’m already the commander of the fucking survey corps!”

“I’m sorry Jean.” Armin sounded cowed.

Jean stopped short and sighed. “Just a second.” He put the receiver down on the table by the telephone, walked over to the ratty couch the Engineers had shoved in a corner, sat down heavily, picked up one of the cushons and buried his head in it. He ignored the stink of must and dirt as he yelled profanities into it until his throat hurt, then let it drop and went still for a few more seconds, breathing deeply and settling his nerves.

“Jean? Are you there? Did the line get cut?”

Jean sighed again, stood and picked up the receiver. “I’m here. It’s not your fault Armin. I just needed to bitch. Apparently the ocean makes him go nuts. That’s new, right?”

“Never seen it happen before.” Armin replied.

Jean fidgeted with the receiver wire. “About the wager. To be fair, he was negotiating with a gun to his head. Calling him a liability was a bit harsh.”

The line went silent. Even the sound of movement stopped.

Jean relented. “I mean I can see where you’re coming from. He sort of is, right now. In a big way. But he’s trying, you know? He’s not Eren. He’s not going behind your back when he has an option not to. And more importantly he’s not trying to start wars and drag us into them.”

“Jean. What’s the probability that he’s planning to sacrifice himself?”

Jean sighed. “It’s almost guaranteed.” 

“Can you...”

“Do something? Of course I will. Don’t worry about it. He’s lost some perspective when it comes to you. If I said it, he’d just laugh it off and tell me to go fuck myself. If you say it, he looks like a kicked puppy. You know how Levi knows where to stab people? You’re Levi except with the mind.” Jean squinted one eye and tapped his head, for no one’s benefit which he realized after he’d done it. “When you get agitated you’re like a lethal weapon with no safety. What do you really want to say to him Armin because I’m pretty sure ‘you’re a liability’ wasn’t it.”

—

Reiner left Jean and the Telegraph station, wandering down Marley one’s dirt Main Street, until he found himself at the pier jutting out into the bay. He sat himself down on the wood overtop the concrete, watching the ocean. The movement of the waves pulled at his thoughts, making him feel like he was going to slip loose of his moorings. He felt a sudden jab of anger at his own weakness. _You're a liability._

He felt a hand on his shoulder and glanced up. Ronal had joined him. Her subtle warmth grounded him.

Reiner frowned. “If I go out there I'm going to lose it again, aren’t I?”

Ronal squeezed his shoulder. “You have to stay on the shore and learn.”

“We don’t have time.” Reiner replied, in Ronal’s language.

Ronal considered what he’d said. “Make the time or you will fail.”

“Fail what?” Reiner asked

“To stop the war.” She lifted her hand and gestured to the hill overlooking Marley One. “Come. Let’s start.”

Reiner stood up.

Ronal lead Reiner up a hill overlooking Marley One. The side of the hill facing the sea was a cliff and near the edge she spread her rattan mat and a second beside it. Then she knelt and waved Reiner to do the same.

Reiner looked out over the ocean, it was choppy with a high wind but not storming. The sky was grey, the clouds low and heavy and there was a persistent drizzle; fat drops of water slid down his neck and back, making him shiver. It was low grade miserable weather. He sighed and sat down on the mat beside Ronal.

She nodded and began to chant softly. He recognized it as the Lord’s Prayer and started to repeat her words.

Almost instantly he lost focus and stared out at the ocean.

He heard a thwack and felt a sharp sting in his calf. He jerked towards Ronal in shock and saw her cradling a stick resembling one Lagi had used on the Pirate guards during their escape. She continued to gaze at him with a peaceful tranquility, as if nothing at all had happened. His brow drew as he rubbed the stinging stripe across his leg, eyeing her.

She returned to praying and he resumed repeating after her, this time more careful to keep his attention to what he was saying. They continued in this manner—Reiner repeating after her and trying to keep his attention on the words, her smacking him with the stick whenever his thoughts split or wandered or got swept away with the waves—until the grey sky had darkened from hazy to smokey and his shins were so abused she only had to tap lightly to make him wince. At least the rain had stopped.

“Get up.” She instructed.

He breathed out in relief and stood up, shaking out the numb stiffness in his joints.

“Breathe lower when we start again.” She said, tapping his stomach with the end of her stick. “Walk around for a bit.”

As he wandered in loose circles he watched her lift a basket she’d brought with her onto her mat. She lifted off the towel she’d placed over top, laid the towel down, and opened it, pulling out several palm sized, leaf wrapped packages on the towel. Reiner trotted over, recognizing them as food.

She placed four of them close to his mat. “Eat, you’re too skinny.”

“Why is this happening?” Reiner asked as he sat down and picked up the first, he pealed open the leaves and shovelled up the rice and fish within using his fingers. It was savoury more than spicy, creamy from the coconut milk and flavoured with lemongrass. “This is good.” He said around a mouthful.

Ronal nodded. “Words create worlds, lives, things that never existed before. They are the fertility of the mind. In the beginning there was the Word, and Spirit moved the Word through the void and created life and life created a story and wisdom.” Ronal said. “This isn’t the first time you’ve done this.”

“Done what?”

“Had more than one story inside you and brought them together to make sense of yourself. How did you do it? Retrace your steps.”

—

“How many?” Eberhardt flattened himself against the wall by the door to Stein’s guest apartment in Mitras' Palace. One of his squad, Emil, knelt by the kickboards, a small hand mirror angled by the crack between floor and the base of the door. They’d barricaded themselves in by nailing lengths of wood across it.

“Twelve.” Emil said back.

“Fuck off.” Eberhardt yelled through the door. “We aren’t coming out without a good reason.”

“Resisting arrest will be met with lethal force.”

“Arrest for what?” Eberhardt frowned. He jerked his chin at Emil to move to the side room, mouthing the word “mouse” at him and waved Smith and the rest of Stein’s Commitatus to follow him.

“Accessory to Treason against the Crown.”

Eberhardt’s brow drew. “Against the Queen? I’m pretty sure you’re the ones pointing guns at her, not us.” He angled his head to watch Emil slapping the wall they’d weakened earlier then wave several of the Canties over. “This is bullshit. It’s not a legal action it’s military. If you want to use lethal force, then we are entitled to do the same. And we’ll do a better job.” He heard a crash as Emil and his fire team slammed a makeshift battering ram made out of a heavy timber post against the wall. The wall gave out with the sound of broken slatboard and pulverized plaster.

“What’s that sound?”

“We’re just packing!” Eberhardt yelled back. There was a hesitation and then banging as the Mitras MP's started to try to kick down th door. Eberhardt ran to the side room, closed the door and nodded at the Canties who immediately blockaded it with furniture. “Let’s go.” He waved his squad through and Stein’s Comitatus lead by Smith. The Comitatus assumed positions at the side of the mouse hole, their Mausers levelled at the blockaded door to the side room.

Eberhardt’d upgraded the Paradis boys to Mausers from their flintlocks; his crew kept their raiding weapons and they’d made a tactical arrangement, the Comitatus were not brawlers so they would provide cover for the Canties’ first bound. It was a lot of trust to place in Yeagerists and Eberhardt was not sure it wouldn’t backfire. But then again, there wasn’t a lot of choice. If they had to stay guarded and escort them instead of work with them, it was likely everyone would die.

Emil and his fireteam ducked through the hole first, followed by the rest of the Canties. Eberhardt listened to the Mitras MPs struggle with the front door until he heard the steady thud of a battering ram. They’d got wise which meant they’d start moving faster. Stein’s Comitatus finished moving through the hole and Yeagerists who’d been covering their retreat moved to follow. Eberhardt kept his Mauser trained on the door until they were through and then crouched and ran through himself.

The second apartment was the penthouse. His squad quickly covered the hole they’d made with more furniture. It was lovely stuff, all rich glossy woods and glass with gold detailing. Eberhardt winced to see it dragged over and unceremoniously shoved over the ruin of gaping slats created by Emil’s destruction.

Luckily the apartment was empty; He gave a prayer of thanks for that as the last thing he wanted to deal with were incised and offended civilians. He trotted backwards through the opulent rooms, watching their barricaded mouse hole and the walls covered in elaborate frescos and gilt trim. Nicest place he’d ever been in, frankly. Felt awful to destroy it.

They ran to the balcony on the far side of the apartment from where they’d entered. The MPs apparently hadn’t got a message to their compatriots out on the palace lawn that they should probably be covering the balcony on the other side of the house yet.

The Commitatus had already climbed from balcony to balcony down the five flights and were jumping down to the manicured grass, scarpering across the lawn to the copse of trees ringed by bushes trimmed into rabbits, horses and a turtle. Once there they took up an overwatch position behind some ornamental boulders.

When Eberhardt was on a third floor balcony he heard the first volley. The MPs had apparently clued into their strategy finally, they were using the corner of the palace as cover. This was the moment of truth—Eberhardt and the rest of the Canties were still climbing down the balcony—Stein’s Commitatus could leave them high and dry and let them get picked off by the wretched MPs.

Eberhardt crouched by the rail on the third floor balcony, sending a prayer to Jovus.

After what seemed like an eternity, he heard a return volley and the MPs were driven back behind the corner of the Palace. Eberhardt moved quickly, grabbing the rail of the balcony, heaving himself up and over and then jumping down to the balcony below. From the second floor he chanced the jump and hit the ground running, racing behind the rest of the Canties to the copse. When he got there, Smith grabbed him and shoved him down behind a boulder they were using as makeshift cover. Bullets snapped against the rock, sending bits of stone spitting off.

“Damn.” Smith said as the Comitatus continued to return fire. “They have Mausers too.”

“Let me guess, they kept the best weapons for themselves.” Eberhardt said. “Seems like you all on the outer walls had a similar relationship to Mitras as the Canties did to Marley.”

Smith went silent, chewing that over.

“Luckily their aim is for shit.” Eberhardt clapped his hand on Smith’s shoulder. “You all did good. You had our backs.”

Smith smiled at Eberhardt. “You’re fast for an old man.”

“Old? I’m thirty-two.” Eberhardt grinned and he moved to a crouch, waving them forward. “Let’s keep the momentum. Start peeling off and let’s get to the next checkpoint. Then to the safehouse.”

—

“Pieck. Walk behind me.” Levi said. They were following their contact; he’d provided them cloaks and led them to a back stair in the apartment building he and Pieck had taken cover in. They were currently descending the stair. It was dark, uncomfortably stuffy and musty. Despite that and his anxiety—not so much for himself or Pieck but the others—he found his eyes drawn to the swaying of Pieck’s hips and the way her dress hugged the curve of her backside. He’d had a hard on for three floors now and the frustration was starting to get aggrivating.

Pieck stopped and leaned close to him. “Something wrong?”

“Yes, your ass is distracting me.”

She giggled. “Seriously?”

Levi glared at her reproachfully. “Just do it.” He continued on down the stairs, moving carefully due to the gloom and his bum leg, ignoring her smothered snickering.

“Where do we go after we get to the bottom?”

Their contact—a young man with the look of the street about him—glanced back. “We keep going.”

Levi blinked at the cryptic answer and frowned. He glanced back at Pieck. _Can we trust him?_

She shrugged.

Five floors down their contact stopped before a wooden cellar door, pulled out a set of keys and opened it. He ushered them inside. They walked past a boiler and coal bucket to another door. This one was metal and rusted through in places, the young man unlocked it. It creaked open.

Beyond Levi could smell the dank of a subterranean space. He looked at their contact questioningly.

“Mitras is riddled with access ports to the underground city. And the Underpass.” He waved them through the door. “We shouldn’t stop for too long.”

Levi stepped into the unpleasantly moist dark, followed by Pieck. Beyond the door was a long tunnel, carved into rock by processes Levi couldn’t identify. Periodically lights were inset into groves cut in the walls. A stream of slimy water slid down the centre of the tunnel. Levi avoided it studiously as he followed their contact.

“Underpass?” Levi frowned. “I never heard of it.”

Pieck hummed thoughtfully. “The Underpass. Interconnected tunnels that provide access to the Walls' interior from the outside.”

Levi looked at her. “I’ve definitely never heard of that.”

“It’s how the Tyburs stayed in contact with King Fritz and his descendants and kept an eye on things within the Walls. I'm guessing they used the War Hammer Titan's powers to create the system.”

“More than just the Tyburs, I think.” Their guide said.

“What’s your name?” Pieck asked.

“Uwe.” He replied. “You can call me that anyway.”

“Uwe." Pieck replied. "Can you tell me what you suspect?”

“That the Tyburs weren’t the only Eldian Royal clan inside the walls that kept ties with the outside.” Uwe said. He stopped in front of a depression in the rock wall.

After a moment Levi made out the rough outline of a door. Uwe pulled a key out of his pocket and inserted it into a very well hidden keyhole. The door opened inwards, a sudden dark passage in the rock. Pieck directed her flashlight towards the murky black and revealed a small room.

Uwe stepped inside and they followed. The room had a bed, what looked like a separate bathroom with shower off one side and a table with a basin and a spigot coming from the wall.

“It’s very primitive.” Uwe said. “But it has potable water, toilet facilities and a bed. Lanterns for light. There’s some cans and preserves under there.” He nodded to a crate under the table with the basin. “We’re going to have you lay low here while we do damage control. We now know Hitch was captured so we have to shuffle every one of her contacts and restructure--”

“Wait.” Levi stopped him, looking between Uwe and a stricken Pieck. “Hitch was captured?” 

Uwe nodded. “We have someone on the inside with her. He says she’s alive and they have a reason to keep her that way. So that situation is concerning but we have time to resolve it in our favour. It's more dicey getting your Marleyan friends to safety. They’re in more trouble right now. But,” He tilted his head in a slow nod coupled with a rueful grimace, “They’re also giving a lot more trouble to our enemies as well. We gave each of you locations to separate safe houses; hopefully the Sergeant Major will find his way to the one we gave him.” Uwe handed Levi the key to the room and the key to the cellar of the appartment. “The door locks automatically when you close it. Test the lock if you wish. The room can only be bolted from the inside. We’ll come back for you in a few days. Final thing. There’s something important for you in that bag, Levi.” Uwe pointed to a bag laid on the table. “I better go. Good luck.”

“To you too.” Pieck said. 

Uwe nodded and walked out of the room. He didn’t close the door and he turned further down the tunnel rather than going back towards the apartment cellar.

Levi stepped out into the tunnel, watching Uwe's shadowed back as he walked deeper into the tunnel and closed the door behind him. He tried the lock; as Uwe had said, it locked behind him. He opened the door again with the key and entered.

Pieck was at the table, her frock coat off and folded over a chair. She was working on releasing the bottom buttons of her blouse, the curve of her pale breasts exposed, stroked by the flickering golden light of the lantern.

“What are you doing?” Levi hissed.

“I’m grimy.” She said, laying her blouse over her jacket. She followed it with her brassiere. “I’m cleaning myself up.” She turned the spigot on. Clean water poured into the basin.

Levi closed the door, bolted it, walked over to the basin, reached past Pieck and turned the spigot off. “Take it all off.”

Pieck watched him with a sly smile. “Here? It’s not exactly the cleanest place.”

He stared at her. The feeling of being half drunk was back. “You’re right. It stinks of about a dozen dirty bodies. Get it off. Now.”

She unbuttoned her dress and let it slid to the floor, stepping out of it. She was naked underneath; he realized she hadn’t had time to put her underwear back on from their last tryst.

Levi breathed out hard and grabbed her under her hips, sinking his fingers into her ass with enough force to make her yelp as he lifted her up and slid her onto the table. He didn’t bother fumbling with his fly, he just yanked his pants down and rocked into her as she squealed in surprise at his urgency. Although he could tell hers was equal to his. “Levi. Stop!” She buried her hands in his hair, breathing raggedly against his ear, her hips moving eagerly against his in complete defiance of her words. “I said, we could be playing with fire.”

“Then I’ll get to raise a kid someone else hasn’t fucked up already.” He growled into her neck.

She hugged his head and pressed the side of her face against his. “Would you marry me?”

He caught her back and kissed her neck. “Yeah.”

Round two went faster than round one, but it was Pieck that seemed to lose it first, writhing against him, her cry high and piercing. He peaked a moment later, his hand pressed against her back, trying to feel every inch of her, soundlessly focused on the intense pleasure of letting go and being embraced so deeply.

Levi dropped his hands from her back, bracing himself on the table. “Woman, you’re going to give me a fetish for disgusting shitholes.” He groaned, catching his breath. He stepped back, letting her get down from the table and start washing herself. He pulled his pants up, leaned on the table and tried to shake the overwhelming warm, liquid feeling out of his head.

“You weren’t kidding about marrying me were you?” Pieck asked as she brushed her fingers through her hair sheepishly.

Levi stared at her. “I’m a crippled, crusty forty-year-old veteran whose had two girlfriends in his entire life and you think I’m lying about wanting to marry to you? The last woman I would have married stank of formaldehyde and Titan ass crack. Good god, do you think I’m holding out for something better? What about you? You going to go back on your word? If I get you pregnant, we’re marrying, right?”

Pieck’s smile got so big it looked sorta stupid and she nodded rapidly.

Levi snorted at her silly expression, giving her a half smile back, then glanced at the leather bag Uwe had pointed out. He frowned and pulled it off the table, opening it. “I guess I should take a look." There was a single book inside. He lifted it out and opened it up to the first page. It was a family tree; he was about to flip the page when he recognized a name. His own. His brow drew, he traced his name up to what he recognized was his mother’s, Kuchel Ackerman. She shared a branch with ‘Kenneth Ackerman Junior’. He looked at the next page in shock. It had a name: Kenneth Ackerman Senior. And a title, ‘A chronicle.’

He turned back to the family tree and traced it until he found ‘Kenneth Ackerman Senior’. He turned to Pieck. She paused in sponging off her neck and shoulders, looking back at him.

Levi shook his head, astounded. “This is my great grandfather’s journal.”

—

Hitch woke up to the sound of guttural snarling. She jerked upwards; her shoulder ached with the sudden movement.

Stein crouched by the metal bars, blood pooling at his feet. He had a shard of broken bottle in his bloody fingers, digging into his forearm. His eyes were screwed tight and the horrible sound he was making was broken by moments where he’d gasp, bracing himself against the floor with his good arm, tears, spit and blood splattering on the stone.

It took several seconds for Hitch to register what he was doing. When she did, she rushed out of bed, tripping in her haste and barking her knees on the stone floor. She barely felt the pain in her knees as she scrambled to his side, grabbing his hand. His skin was cold. 

“Karl, stop! You’ll kill yourself!” 

He shoved her off, still strong enough to push her away, but the effort seemed to exhaust him.

She came back, grabbing the glass shard and his hand. The edge bit into her thumb and fingers but she didn’t let go. “Don’t.” Hot tears ran down her cheeks.

He tried to shake her off but his movements were slow and weak. He was gasping as if he couldn’t get enough air. He started to crumple and she transferred her grip to his shoulders to make sure he didn’t hit his head again as he fell to his side.

“Help!” She called out. There was no Guard in the tower. “Help please!”

She got to her feet and ran for the bandages the doctor had left, scooping up what she could quickly, the rest scattering on the floor. While he was laid up on the floor gasping, she laid a compress over his forearm and put down pressure. Without looking up she continued to scream for help.

—

“I’m definitely looking forward to changing my clothes.” Reiner said as he sat down on the bed opposite Jean’s. Marley One had limited sleeping space; some of the soldiers at the base had to sleep on the floor in the barracks just to free up a junior officers’ double. “Hopefully they find something in my size.” Reiner scooted back on the bed, leaning against the wall and looking up at the ceiling.

"Me too." Jean snorted and tapped the bottle in his hand with his knuckles. He’d found it somewhere; it had no label but was presumably some form of spirits. “Ready to get drunk?” 

Reiner smiled. “That won’t be enough for me.”

Jean raised a finger and pulled another bottle out of the canvas bag he’d been carrying. “How about a second?”

“That’ll do it.”

Jean thunked the second bottle down on the desk between them. “Did you make any progress with Ronal?” He pulled the cork out of the first and took a gulp, then handed it to Reiner.

Reiner took it. “I think so. At least I hope so.”

“I remembered something. Didn't have time to talk about it before.” Jean said. “Karl Stein used to be Hitch’s partner in Stohess.”

“Did she tell you anything about him?”

Jean frowned. “They were Partners for six months. They were dating prior to Hitch leaving Stohess. She… had sex with him once. She said he was bad news. That’s it. Didn’t seem to want to talk about him at all. I sort of picked at her a bit about it but she didn’t say anything more. To be honest it seemed like a sore spot. Like she was really angry. It was a little unsettling. She’s feisty but she doesn’t usually get that angry.” Jean’s brow drew. “Do you think—“

“They met up? Mitras is the biggest city on the island. I think it’s doubtful.” Reiner finished off his turn and handed the bottle back to Jean. 

“How did Zeke know he was in Mitras?”

“There were always more contacts between the mainland and Mitras than you all knew. Or even Marley knew. And Zeke is well connected.” Reiner laced his fingers together behind his head, laying back against the wall again. “Ogygia wasn’t just a resort island, it was a telegraph relay station. There was transoceanic telegraph cable running from Marley to Ogygia and then from there to the island. There’s always been communication at the highest levels. The Tyburs had their own spy and surveillance network on the island.”

Jean looked skeptical, the bottle poised at his lips. “Are you sure we can trust him?”

“He was willing to die to end the Rumbling.” Reiner stopped in thought. “And our interests aren’t necessarily in complete alignment but Zeke’s closer to Alliance town than anyone else on the island.”

Jean nodded as he handed Reiner the booze. “There was something else I wanted to ask you. Did you and Armin have a spat? You're always pouting around him now, like he spanked you."

"Huh?"

"Oh. You're not even aware of it. You’re upset with him.”

Reiner stared at him like he was speaking nonsense. “No.”

“You two are so densely logical. Everything is strategy and tactics with you. And yet you’re also insane… Eh.” Jean waved his hand. “You know why I’m here? Because Armin asked me to keep an eye on you. And he said ‘professional distance’ or ‘I’m busy’ but, just like you, he’s dense too. I’m pretty sure what he meant to say is that you were upset with him and he didn’t know how to get you to admit to it so he could fix it. So he asked me.”

“I’m not upset with him.” Reiner said sullenly.

Jean cupped his hand around his ear. “Do you hear that tone? That’s the tone of someone who is pissed off.”

“Yes. Because I’m being nagged. By you.”

Jean steepled his fingers and stared at him over them.

Reiner rolled his eyes and sighed. “I don’t have the right to be upset at Armin.”

“But you are. This is what’s so aggravating about you. Feelings don’t cease to exist because you’ve decided they should. That’s not how it works. They still are there, Reiner. And everyone knows it because you’re like a misery tea-bag. You just… leak and fill a whole room with the flavour of despair. Or anger. Or being pissed at Armin.” Jean grimaced. “I got one friend who needles and another who pin cushions. Try this. ‘Armin, you’re being mean to me.’”

Reiner shook his head. “I can’t say that.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m responsible for the fall of—“

“The fall of Shinganshina. Yes, we are all aware. And I’m responsible for killing my friends at Paradis Port. And Armin’s single handedly responsible for vaporizing almost twenty thousand people when he took a huge bite out of Liberio. We’ve all done something awful that we’ll never forgive ourselves for.” He waved for the bottle back. “When I first joined the cadets the worst thing about being a soldier was freezing your ass off on the side of a mountain in a shitty tent and a canvas sleeping bag full of holes. How ignorant I was.” Jean took a sip. “I thought it was getting a townhouse in Mitras and being able to buy whatever luxury I wanted that made me almost side with the Yeagerists. No one would be able to talk shit to me because I was a hero who fought for the Island. But it wasn’t that. That was a perk. The reason I almost joined was so I wouldn’t have to be wrong. Why did I attack Liberio? Why did I help Eren start the rumbling in Shinganshina? Why did I help him without knowing what he was doing? If I joined the Yeagerists I’d have an answer for all of that. The people on the mainland are animals who deserve to die. They hate us; they can’t be reasoned with. I’d be right. Maybe that’s the real sin of killing. You get so invested in whatever you’ve killed for, so you just keep killing to justify the killing you’ve already done. Because if you stop, then you were wrong. And you killed people for nothing. You’re just a murderer.” Jean took another swig and handed it to Reiner. ”I resisted the desire to be right. You resisted it.” 

Reiner tossed the bottle from one hand to another. “Brandy said, ‘just hate them, it’d be easier.’ If I just agreed with what Marley told me, I would have hurt a lot less obeying their orders. He said I was choosing the pain.” Reiner snorted softly. “And someday I’d know why.”

“Do you?”

“No.” Reiner’s brow drew, he tilted the booze up, taking a couple swallows. Then handed it back to Jean. “I loved you all. Even if it was a lie.”

“Well.” Jean pointed at him with the neck of the bottle. “You’re the same in some ways. I suspected you were sort of a fuckboy even back then but I had no idea the depths of your sluttiness. You’re a troll, that’s the same. You care about people too much and you sacrifice too much, also the same. You’re more cynical and cunning. Which strangely makes you sexier. All and all, I like you better now." He grinned. "Ten out of ten, would fuck him again." 

“Really?”

“Yeah, you could be so sanctimonious you know? I relate to this you more. You’re just a cripple like the rest of us.”

“Also I really wanted Historia.”

Jean raised his eyebrows, taking another swig. “You and the entire camp, sir.” 

“I’m actually surprised I managed to keep my paws off. I guess I was more timid then. Wanting an Island Devil? That was a bigger taboo than wanting a Marleyan back home.” Reiner hesitated. “His name was Alder. The man who abused me. It happened after I came back from Paradis. He was responsible for determining if my loyalty had shifted while being on the Island. He got into that position for a reason. Leverage.” He took another pull on the bottle. “He had a… uh… fetish for sexual enslavement by the Eldian Empire.”

Jean grimaced at him in disgust. “What.”

“Yeah it was… bizarre. Sorta hilariously so. And also horrible and repulsive. It’s awful being at the mercy of people who are stupider and more compulsive than you are; it makes you wonder why the world is this insane. After that it was like he branded me; I was stuck repeating his bullshit. Historia was the last time it was just me and what I wanted. I wanted to marry her and have a family with her. It was wholesome.” He pressed his fist to his forehead. “Well maybe not raw dogging her in the dirt on the floor of an abandoned ruin.” Reiner felt his skin get hot; his breathing quickened. “It still gets to me, that moment. I wanted her so bad.”

Jean went quiet, looking thoughtful. “Did you get what you wanted? Now I mean.”

Reiner shook his head. “No. She's just a mess in my head now.” He bit his lip, thinking. “I was told all my life that I had to atone for the guilt of my ancestors by destroying the Island Devils. Who were evil because they felt no guilt for their crimes like us good Eldians. And I was told anything I suffered was atonement. Being…” He frowned and grit his teeth, shouldering through what he said next. “Raped by Alder was atonement. All the abuse you suffer from Marleyans is atonement. It makes the pain make sense, right? It gives you a bit of control because you’re not a victim, you’re atoning for your guilt. But the Island devils escape all the suffering. So you hate them instead of the people making you suffer. Brandy told me ‘the hate holds back so much pain.’ Our hatred for you made being abused easier to live with. Does that make sense?” He glanced at Jean.

Jean nodded. “I guess.” He wiped his eyes.

“And yet, on a level that goes beyond any reason… I loved you all and more than anything I wanted Historia. So when Alder hurt me I’d try to escape into the hatred and I couldn’t. It’s a mess and I disgorged it all over her.” Reiner hesitated. “Literally. I got sick.”

Jean’s brow drew. “Can’t you just hate Alder though?”

Reiner grinned ruefully and laughed. “Yeah. I guess I could. Marley’s dead now. Why not?”

“It’s something that happened to you, it isn’t who you are. It’s who he was.”

Reiner put the bottle to his lips and lifted it to drink. He no longer tasted it clearly. “Magath got him killed. He fucking hated Alder.”

“There you go.” Jean waved for the bottle and Reiner handed it to him. He laughed. “You judged me when I was a kid and yet here you are, listening to me.”

“I never judged you.”

“Yeah you did. You just didn’t bother to fight me over it like Eren did. I’m not saying you were wrong. I was a selfish little shit, but I think I also had a point. Where do you draw the line? When do you have the right to just do what you want? To get what you need? To be upset at what’s done to you?” Jean stared at his hands. “You know what really made me dig deep into all of this? Mitras. Hofferson, Chloba and Mitras. When Wall Maria fell Mitras let the leadership in Wall Rose throw a hundred thousand people to their deaths, when they could have done something. Chloba pisses off the Engels Yeagerists and, of course, that means they have to be raised to the ground. Hofferson does everything he can to get Mitras to help, since they’re supposedly what’s left of our legitimate leadership. Mitras gives him a map to us. That’s it. The Steward of Mitras is continuing the noble tradition of the city by siting on his fucking ass and doing nothing. He’s never got his hands bloody, he’s also never helped anyone, he’s never made a single decision that inconveniences himself even slightly.” Jean’s brow drew. “I think about that. Are the people who actually step up and make a decision between two shitty options really the ones who have to live for the rest of their lives in misery and regret?” He lifted the bottle. “So fuck the Steward of Mitras. He didn’t even side with the Yeagerists even though Mitras benefits most from what they did. Got rid of the Junta which meant the old guard could crawl out again, got rid of Marley and then started to get rid of themselves too.”

Reiner laughed and reached for the second bottle on the desk and uncorked it, lifting it like Jean. “Alright then. Fuck the Steward of Mitras.”

“Yeah.” Jean nodded. “And fuck everyone who has never had to make a shitty choice and judges anyone who has for not pulling a perfect solution out of their ass. I'm going to enjoy my life." He looked at Reiner, grinning around his bottle. "And if I get pissed at Armin, I'm going to tell him. Right?" 

—

“So you’re proposing that Historia goes to Mitras to announce her engagement to you?” Brandeis leaned forward, elbow on his desk, his chin propped against his knuckles. “What assurance do we have you won’t launch an attack as soon as you get her out of our camp?”

“I suggest a hostage exchange.” Kettler hesitated. “It’s a harsh way to put it, but I’ll put in your care someone who is very precious to me. The Lady Milia.”

Brandeis leaned back in his chair. “This isn’t a spa.” 

“She’s the commander of the Garrison in Yalkell. I’m sure she can survive in your camp without unreasonable accommodations.” Kettler stepped closer to Brandeis desk. “We have to do this quickly, Commander—“

“Major.” Brandeis corrected. “I’m not in the goddamn Navy.” 

“My apologies, Major.” Kettler smiled uncomfortably. “We have to do this quickly. My sources say Stein is going to start moving on Norden Valley—“

“Your sources huh?” Brandeis snorted. “Well, certainly I have the utmost confidence in your sources.”

Kettler grimaced at him. “Is there a reason you’re so hostile?”

Brandeis stared at him, dumbfounded. “You’re putting your dick in my friend’s wife and breaking up his marriage.”

Kettler stepped back; he had the good grace to drop his gaze and stare at the ground, ashamed. This mollified Brandeis slightly.

“It’s just politics.” Kettler said.

“Well that explains everything.” Brandeis raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “You don’t actually have to get my approval, Kettler. She’s already made her decision.”

“I wanted to confirm the exchange. And also if you doubt me, you have aerial capabilities. Check Stein’s army, you’ll see they’ve moved from Nedley towards Norden Valley.”

“I’ll do that.” Brandeis stood up. He strode towards his tent exit, forcing Kettler to step back to get out of his way. “Now get out of here.”

“Excuse me?” Kettler frowned.

“I’m going to talk to Historia. Alone.” Brandeis lifted the flap and jerked his head at the guards. “Take him back to his cabin." He waited a beat while Kettler, looking not particularly pleased, was walked off with the guard. "Private.” He waved to one of his Aides. “Go request the Queen’s presence.” The soldier nodded and marched off towards Historia’s tent.

Brandeis pulled a street plan of Mitras and a map of North Paradis out of his cabinet and laid it out on his desk. He picked up the telephone receiver back to Alliance town. “Patch me through to the Air Force.”

“Onyakopon here.”

“I need you to confirm intelligence on Stein Army’s movements. As quick as you can. Allegedly they're on the move to Norden Valley.”

“Will do.”

Brandeis hung up the receiver just as Historia ducked through the flap of his tent. She looked at him questioningly. “You wanted me?”

“Kettler requested to talk to me. And I let him. He’s going to take you and give me this Lady Milia. I don’t know if you’re still taking my advice, your Majesty, but this stinks.” He raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you’re not compromised?”

Historia glared at him. “Of course not.” She leaned on the strategy table in front of his desk. “If Stein gets here before our defences are ready, then we will need help to contain him. This makes our victory almost guaranteed.”

“At the cost of your marriage to Reiner.”

“It can be annulled until I get pregnant.” Historia said uncomfortably. “And I’m not.”

“That’s so mechanistic. You’re in love with each other, that should be good enough.”

Historia choked. “What? No.”

Brandeis laughed. “Amazing. He’s found a woman as dense as he is. Wait.” He pointed at her. “That was ambiguous. Are you saying that you’re not in love or that being in love isn’t enough?”

She folded her arms over her chest and gave him a glare that he actually felt. His laughter trailed off and he shook his head. “Alright. I wash my hands of whatever strange courtship you two space aliens are engaged in. I don’t trust Kettler.”

“We don’t need to. He needs me to pursue his ambitions.”

“If you’re going to do it, you take a squad.”

“No.” Historia shook her head. “Just me and Mikasa. We can move faster if we’re not weighed down. That’s essential to what I’m planning.”

“You two talking again?”

“We never weren’t talking really.” Historia said. “We can work fine together.”

“Not good enough.” He slapped the map of Mitras. “I assume once you get to the wall, you’re back on foot, right? So you’ll need a pick up. Plan your exit route. And I’ll make sure someone’s there to get you.”

—

Hitch huddled in a ball—crying silently to herself—on the bed between the wall and the iron bars of the cell as the doctor sewed Stein up again. They hadn’t moved him out of the cell this time; apparently moving him at all was too much of a risk now. As far as she could tell he was barely breathing.

The doctor stayed by his side for hours--Hitch went in and out of sleep during that time--and when he was conscious, helped him drink broth.

When Cleaner came again, Stein had regained some colour.

“You do this again.” Cleaner sat down beside Stein on the bed and grabbed his jaw. “I’ll run a train on her. If you die I’ll kill her. You got that? You’re just going to lie here and heal. You’re not delaying and you’re not killing yourself.” He slapped Stein’s cheek. “We have to find a special carriage for you now, one with good suspension that can handle hard country roads. And you are going to repay me for every bit of effort I’ve gone to for your comfort.”

Hitch hid her head in her arms. She listened to Cleaner’s footsteps, the sound of the cell door opening. And then the door to the stair. When she was sure he was gone she looked up again.

The doctor had moved back to Stein’s side. His presence calmed Hitch somewhat; she was now sure he was one of the Tybur’s operatives. She hadn't said anything to him; if they were going to get free, she assumed she needed to keep quiet until they decided to speak to her.

“You’re lucky you’re young.” He said to Stein. “You’ll survive.”

Stein didn’t answer.

The doctor stood. “I’ll make sure they send in red meat at meals. Keep him drinking fluids.”

“He tried to kill himself.” Hitch said. “He doesn’t want to survive.” 

The doctor looked at her; his expression was helpless and Hitch realized he was fully aware of the reality of the situation and the absurdity trying to pretend it was normal. Without saying anything further he left and a guard opened the cell to let him out.

Stein was conscious but he said nothing as Hitch returned to his side. He turned over and stared at the wall, silent.

Hitch lay down beside him after awhile she pressed her forehead against his back and slipped an arm over his waist. In the face of his silence, she started to talk to him the way she used to talk to Annie, about anything she could think of. The cases they’d had together, funny things that had happened to her in Alliance town. She tried to avoid mentioning Jean, but here and there she ended up talking about some of the things they’d done together.

At some point she felt his hand on hers. He’d laced his fingers in hers.

She sat up a bit and her heart clenched; he’d been crying silently.

“Karl.” She said.

“They’re going to force me to do this no matter what.” He squeezed her hand. “I shouldn’t have dragged you into this.”

“I shouldn’t have left you in Stohess.”

“You insist on taking responsibility for that.”

“I could have gotten you out. I should have. I let my hatred for the Yeagerists blind me.”

He chuckled. “I’m too stubborn. You would never have convinced me to leave.”

“And yet I convinced you give up on Engels.”

He went silent. Then he nodded. “Yeah, you did.” He turned over.

She placed her hands on the sides of his head. “You would have come with me.”

He sighed and caught one of her hands, tipping his head forward until they touched, forehead to forehead.“Don’t blame yourself.”

Hitch pressed her face against the back of her hand and kissed him. “I love you.”

He sighed. “What are you saying? What about your non-existent boyfriend?”

Hitch sniffled. “His name is Jean.”

“Jean? The Scout?”

Hitch wiped her eyes and stared at him in surprise. “How did you know?”

“A guess. He did our graduation address. He talked about dedicating your heart. To freedom, protection and peace.” Stein smiled. “Figures you’d have a war hero for a boyfriend.” He pulled her into his arms, his hand against the back of her neck. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have ever come back into your life. I’m just making you hurt. And say stupid things.”

Hitch said nothing.

He stroked her hair out of her face. “I’m going to die.”

“I know.”

He smiled. “I’m going to figure out how to die protecting your town. No more choices between bad and worse.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the commenters expressed concern about whether or not I was going to make this story sad. 
> 
> I'll be honest, I think most people who've read up to this point can tell it's going to be a pretty damn sad story. However I'm more of the "earn your happy ending" school of writing than a "kill em all" school. In my opinion this story won't end up being as sad, overall, as my story "The Strong Survive." 
> 
> I'm aiming for a hopeful (if slightly conflicted) ending. 
> 
> A note on terminology. Comitatus is a latin term for a war band. Essentially Stein's Comitatus is a group of young men who are loyal to him and comprise the top of his military hierarchy. Since things have degraded politically during the Yeagerist uprisings, there's a lot less centralized military hierarchy and a lot more cult of personality.  
> The Council is the group of Yeagerist fanatics that originally recruited Stein, its lead by a (yet unnamed) woman and has significant influence with the Yeagerist control structure in Stohess. Their relationship to Stein and his Comitatus was rocky even before the Council decided to seriously pursue assassination as the Comitatus' loyalty to Stein makes him as much a liability as an asset. It also means that they have to figure out some ploy to gain their loyalty should they want to kill Stein. Executing the murderer responsible for the fall of Shinganshina might be of benefit for this.
> 
> Also Jean recognizes Reiner is totally dominated by smol angry blond people.


End file.
